


Doctor's Orders

by RoxyRosee



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Because these boys are sexy whether they like it or not, Blow Jobs, But in a sexy way, Child Abuse, Coming of Age, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, No I'm not a Doctor, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Science? What science?, blushing!Daryl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-24 02:53:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 27
Words: 101,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2565680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoxyRosee/pseuds/RoxyRosee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>High School AU: Shane and Daryl get in a fight at school, and Shane gets in a hard kick to Daryl's nuts. Feeling guilty, Shane offers to come by Daryl's house with some beer. Turns out, Shane's not too bad at playing nurse...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“I’d try three or four times a day for the next three days.”

“You can’t be fuckin’ serious.”

“ _Language_ , Dixon,” the school nurse scoffed, “And yes, I’m entirely serious. Assuming you do want to be able to have children some day.”

“Can’t fuckin’ believe this,” he muttered, and with his good hand, he pressed his fingertips gently to the edge of his cheekbone and winced at the dull throb of pain. The black eye would be showing by the time he left for home, that much he knew.

“Language!”

“Alright, alright, just explain it to me one more time,” Daryl mumbled.

“You suffered a very serious blow to the testicles.”

“Yeah I remember that part.”

“And it resulted in significant inflammation. Now, in order to prevent any blockage in the Vas Deferens, which could lead to infection, you’ll need to… _purge_ your testes of semen several times a day until the swelling goes down.”

“And what happens if I don’t?”

“In the long term? It could do permanent damage. You’d eventually need surgery, a few days in the hospital. Potentially wouldn’t be able to have children. In the short term, the longer you go without _coping_ with the problem, the more painful it will get. You’ll know good and well when a purge is…necessary, so to speak.”

“Great, just fuckin’ great.” _Of course_ , it was his left hand that was fucked. The one he used to write and to load his bow and to jerk…

“Dixon!”

“Jesus woman, alright! Just write me a note so I can get back to class.”

She filled out a hall pass and handed it to the boy. “Here you go. Now take care of yourself, and let me know if the pain gets any worse. And Dixon, prostate stimulation would probably work best.”

Daryl didn’t bother to ask what the hell that was before he was out the door with a huff.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

 _Fucking Shane Walsh_. This was all his goddamn fault.

The stupid prick just couldn’t leave well enough alone.

“ _Hey Dixon, how’s it you keep that piece of shit truck of yours running?”_

_“Hey Dixon, you own any shirts with sleeves on ‘em?”_

_“That’s a nice limp, you got going, man. You get fucked up the ass last night, or was it just another run in with your Daddy?”_

Daryl hardly remembered making the decision to strike, but he knew good and well that _that_ was the line that did. Shane had pushed him too goddamn far. And the fucker had fought dirty to top it all off. Crushing his left hand with the heel of his boot, kicking him in the nuts like a fucking pussy.

At that point, he hadn’t even felt the blows to his middle, though he was pretty sure now that a few of his ribs were broken. He’d managed to hide that little fact from the nurse, desperate to just get the fuck out of there to tend to his broken ego. At least Daryl could be content that he’d gotten in a few serious licks of his own. Shane would be feeling it for days, and the black eye and cut across his cheek wouldn’t fade for weeks.

That fucker always provoked him. Ever since they were kids, just into middle school, Shane would prod and jab until Daryl snapped. He seemed to take some kind of sick pleasure in it, pushing Daryl until he couldn’t help but get physical.

Daryl was musing over whether he might get away with cutting the brake lines in Shane’s Chevy when he spotted the Devil himself leaning up against Daryl’s beloved truck. _Waiting for him._

“ _The fuck_ , Shane, you wanna go again?” Daryl growled, already throwing his backpack into the bed of the truck and baring down to draw.

“Woah, woah, woah, Dixon just calm down alright? I ain’t here for that,” Shane immediately said, seeming relatively sincere.

“Then get your bitch ass hands off my truck, and fuck off to wherever you came from,” Daryl ground out, stepping closer and squaring off his shoulders.

“Look, I will, in a second, but…I just wanted to _apologize_ , alright?”

Daryl backed up an inch, startled. “Why?”

“’Cuz I fucked up, man, I never shoulda…never shoulda started that shit. Shouldn’t have been always starting that shit with you, and especially not today.”

“Yeah, and why’s today so damn special?”

Shane’s eyebrows furrowed together. “We were friends when we were kids. You forgettin’ I used to live around the block from you? I know what day it is, man.”

Daryl’s eyes darted away from him, eyes burning. Not a lot of people remembered the day his house burned down, or who had burnt up with it, but it figured that the asshole Daryl hated most would want to bring it up after beating the shit out of him. “Don’t want your fuckin’ pity. Think I preferred ya when you hated me, Walsh.”

Shane looked taken aback, “Man, I never hated you. Never have, it’s just…I’m an asshole. Know I am. Been workin’ through some shit, and…yeah, takin’ it out on you, I guess. But you don’t deserve that shit. I mean, when we were goin’ at in the yard, I had this moment where I looked at ya, and I like, woke up, ya know? Think it was the first fuckin’ time I’ve ever thought about what I was doin’ as I was doin’ it. I don’t wanna be this guy anymore.”

“Well glad I could help ya with that fuckin’ epiphany,” Daryl grumbled, “Now get off my truck and leave me be.”

Shane began to move away from the door, then hesitated. “What if I brought over some beer tonight?”

Now that wasn’t what Daryl had expected. “Huh?”

“Some beer. We can watch the game or some shit. Least I can do.”

“If I say yes, will you get off my fuckin’ truck?”

Shane appeared to think for a moment, before he nodded.

“Then fuckin’ fine! Now piss off already,” Daryl snarled. Shane flashed him a brilliant smile before jogging back to the other end of the lot where his car was parked.

“I’ll be there ‘round seven!” Shane called behind him.

Daryl slid into his car and stared at the wheel for a beat. _What the fuck did I just agree to?_

TWDTWDTWDTWD

Things were tense from the moment Shane walked through his front door. His Dad was off on some bender, and Merle was in jail again, but Daryl thanked Christ for that because if either of them had come home to see Shane in the house, they might have beaten the both of them just for kicks. Daryl tried to tell himself that the anxiety was just about having Shane around, that he didn’t trust the guy. But if he was being honest with himself, the problem stemmed a little further south.

His balls were aching, cock half-hard for no fuckin’ reason at all. And even after he downed his first beer, the pain stuck around, dull and steady but never abating.

Three beers more and Daryl was buzzed plenty, but the pain was only getting worse. He squirmed back and forth on the couch, pretending to be absorbed with whatever game Shane had flicked on to pass the time. They’d hardly spoken at all, aside from Shane’s intermittent comments about this player or that. Daryl pawed at his crotch as subtly as possible, trying to find a more comfortable position.

“Hey man, you okay?” Shane suddenly asked.

Daryl’s ears lit up like a Christmas tree. “M’fine.”

“Uh-huh,” Shane replied after a beat, “Don’t look it though. You hurting?”

“S’nothin’ Shane.”

“Don’t look like nothin’. What did the nurse tell you?”

“Said my hand would be healed up in a couple weeks. Sprained. Black eye would be gone sooner than that. Nothin’ I ain’t heard before.”

Shane nodded, “And what about the other thing?”

“What _about_ it?” Daryl growled.

Shane looked down to his lap, managing to look believably contrite, though Daryl remained skeptical. “Kicked you pretty hard. Know I did. Just…wanted to make sure you’re alright. You’re sure the nurse didn’t say anything about it?”

Daryl let out a long, disgruntled sigh. “She said if I wanted to have kids, I’ve gotta…beat it five times a day for the next three days, or some shit. She was probably fuckin’ with me anyways.”

Shane’s eyes went wide. “Man, I don’t think she woulda lied about that. You’ve just been ignoring it?”

“I’m fine,” Daryl insisted.

“No, you ain’t, man. You haven’t done it once since this morning?”

Daryl glared hard at him, cheeks red with embarrassment. “No, I haven’t, _Shane._ I was at school and then the asshole who caused this bullshit problem insisted on invitin’ himself over for the evening.”

Shane eyed him appraisingly. “Well, go take care of it, man. The game can wait.”

With eyebrows raised and mouth hanging open, Daryl managed to look properly horrified by the suggestion.

“I’m serious,” Shane continued, “Can’t have your nuts fallin’ off ‘cuz you were too busy trying to be a good host.”

Daryl snorted at that, then got up off the couch with a sigh and headed towards the back of the house.

“You want some help?” Shane called as Daryl went to leave the room, and the archer frowned at how sincere the offer came out sounding. No tease or mockery in sight.

“Fuck off,” was all Daryl could manage to mutter in response, before locking himself in the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, and Shane was pacing across the living room, downing his fifth beer and trying not to think too hard about what was happening behind closed doors. Fifteen and Shane just figured, _fuck it._ He stormed the few yards to the bathroom door and rapped on it hard.

A second later, Daryl opened the door a crack, still in the process of tucking himself back into his jeans. Only problem was, he was still plenty hard, and noticeably so.

“What do you want?” Daryl sighed, feeling uncomfortable and frustrated and mostly just tired.

“Seriously, nothin’?” Shane asked incredulously.

Daryl huffed out a groan through his teeth. “Well ya fuckin’ crushed the hand I usually use to do it. Can’t get the grip right, and my abs hurt too bad to…whatever. Figure I wouldn’t be too great a dad anyways.” Daryl went to head back towards the living room, but Shane pressed a hand to his chest, stopping him.

“Wha-?”

Shane pressed hard at both of Daryl’s shoulders, forcing him back into the bathroom and kicking the door shut behind him.

Daryl’s defenses immediately went up, and he shoved Shane hard, ignoring the wicked sting from his middle at the sudden movement. “What the fuck, Shane?” he hissed.

Shane raised his hands in mock surrender. “Look man, you can’t just ignore the shit the nurse said. You’ll end up in the fucking hospital.”

“Yeah well, if you wanna pay for a hooker, then I’m all in,” Daryl spat.

Shane smirked at him, “Got somethin’ better than a hooker.” And with that, he took a step closer to the skittish archer and reached for his belt.

“The fuck?” Daryl breathed, moving as far back against the sink as the small space would allow and freezing under Shane’s heated gaze.

“I’m not fucking around with you, Daryl, not about this,” Shane promised him.

And because it was the first time in years he’d heard Shane use his real name, Daryl briefly allowed himself to believe him. “You’re…not?”

Shane gave him a heartbreakingly tender smile. “No, man. I’d never do that. I just want to do this for you.”

Daryl was biting at his lip, and trying not to think about the heated pain radiating from his groin. He tried even harder not to acknowledge how fucking _hard_ he’d gotten since Shane began to advance on him. “Y’ain’t gonna tell no one?”

“Nah, man. ‘Course not. But even if I did, I’d end up looking a hell of a lot worse than you would, dontcha think?”

Daryl looked up at him from underneath his bangs, looking the smallest bit hopeful.

“Hell, if anyone found out, you could just tell ‘em I’m your bitch. Wouldn’t be too far a stretch, right?”

“S’ppose not,” Daryl mumbled. He sucked in a sharp breath when he felt Shane’s deft fingers flick open his belt and lower his fly. Christ, he hadn’t even realized Shane was reaching for that again.

Then, Daryl gasped aloud when Shane shoved down his jeans and boxers a good six inches and took his cock in hand for the first time. Shane squeezed his hard-on affectionately, rubbing a thumb over the head and watching Daryl’s eyes slam shut at the sensation.

“Fuck, you _are_ needing this,” Shane murmured. He began to move his fist in a familiar up and down movement, twisting over the head with each stroke until Daryl was gripping the edge of the sink with white knuckles and panting into their shared air.

Shane’s eyes were utterly fixated on him, watching the all-over flush seep out across Daryl’s body. Watching his chest heave up and down with the unfamiliarity of the stimulation. Watching him bite so hard at his lower lip that Shane was sure it would bleed.

 _He’s trying to stay quiet_ , Shane realized, and the thought only made him throb harder in the confines of his jeans. A little whimper escaped Daryl’s throat. _Trying and failing. Fuck me._

“Look at me, Daryl,” Shane commanded, and the archer dutifully opened his eyes, pupils wide with arousal. “You ain’t done this before, have you?”

Daryl tried to look away from him, tried to ignore the question entirely. But then Shane twisted his palm over the top of Daryl’s cock rapidly, and Daryl’s body bowed forward off the sink as Daryl moaned breathily, “Fuck, oh fuck.”

“C’mon, Daryl. You can tell me. You ever got a hand job before?” Shane’s hand was speeding up its assault, and Daryl had no choice but to answer.

“N-no,” he choked out as he fought not to buck into the tight grip, and Shane grinned widely.

“Fuck, that’s hot. Savin’ yourself for me, Daryl? It’s better than touchin’ yourself, huh. Bet my hand feels so fuckin’ good stroking you.”

Daryl could only nod, hand abandoning the sink to grip Shane’s shirt. At that sign of utter submission and lust, Shane couldn’t curtail his own needs any longer. Never missing a beat, Shane used his free hand to unsheathe his aching member. He began to stroke himself and Daryl at the same rapid rate.

Lucky for him, Daryl didn’t even seem to notice Shane’s newfound arousal. All he could concentrate on was the tight fist wrapped around his cock, providing delicious friction that he had to fight not to rut into like a whore. Shane took a chance and pressed his forehead to Daryl’s, wanting to watch every emotion that passed over the boy’s face as he neared his peak. Pre-cum oozed out of the slit of Daryl’s cock with every movement of Shane’s hand.

“Fuck, Daryl,” Shane moaned, “You’re fuckin’ dripping for me. I’m gonna make you come, huh? Gonna make you come all over yourself.”

Daryl’s mouth hung open as he panted his reluctant agreement, “Yeah…fuck, I’m…m’close.”

“Fuck, yeah I know you are. Gonna come hard, aren’t ya?” Shane sped up his hands, stroking them both hard and fast and tight. “C’mon Daryl, give it to me. Wanna see you do it.”

With several sharp breaths and a rumbling groan, Daryl erupted between them. Shane memorized all the rigid lines of Daryl’s perfect body as he hit the moment of release, relished the whimpering moans the boy couldn’t suppress as come shot out of his dick in every direction, coating his shirt and hand and even the floor with evidence of Shane’s power over him.

Daryl had pushed his body even further into Shane’s as he came, and the debauched sight of Daryl “I’ll kick your ass” Dixon covered in his own spunk and panting in Shane’s arms was too much for the latter to bear.

“Fuck, Daryl!” Shane cried out, before shooting off between them. The sated archer didn’t even flinch when warm, white, wetness streaked across his chest.

They stayed close for a few minutes, as both worked to even out their breathing. Shane was the first to speak.

“Fuck,” Shane chuckled, “That was so fucking good. I haven’t shot off like that in forever.” He watched Daryl’s face for a moment. “Hurt less now?”

That made the archer look up at him, seeming confused and relieved, but guarded again, as if he expected Shane to turn on him at any moment. “Yeah, don’t hurt at all.”

Shane smiled proudly, “That’s good, man. That was the idea. Now you got a shirt I can borrow, ‘cuz this ones kinda fucked.”

Daryl gave him an odd look, then shrugged and led Shane over to his room. “Take your pick,” he said, gesturing towards his dresser. Daryl slipped out of his shirt and into a new one while Shane was distracted.

“So where am I sleeping?” Shane asked when he turned back around.

Daryl stared at him incredulously. “Sleeping…?”

“Yeah man, nurse said you’ve gotta keep this shit up for the next three days, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Well then I’d rather not be shuttlin’ my ass back and forth between your place and mine all weekend.”

Daryl shifted his weight back and forth nervously. “Shane, ya don’t gotta…I don’t expect ya to…”

“Hey,” Shane cut him off, taking a step forward and resting one hand on Daryl’s shoulder. The archer had to fight the urge not to shrug him off. “One thing you oughta know about me after all these years is that I don’t ever do something I don’t wanna do.”

When Daryl found no signs of a rouse in Shane’s tone or posture, he let out a sigh. “Fine. Best to stay in my room them. In case…” _In case my dad comes back._

Shane didn’t seem the least bit bothered by Daryl’s vagueness. He flopped down on his back in the center of Daryl’s bed, and shot the boy a cheeky grin. “Well, alright man. But where are you gonna sleep?”


	2. Chapter 2

Shane woke up grinning, actually fucking grinning in disbelief at the circumstances. He was sprawled out in Daryl’s bed, in boxers and a T-shirt with the archer himself laying beside him in just as little clothing, and fast asleep. For all the time he’d spent ignoring his chronic problem, then cursing himself for it, then fantasizing about it at length, Shane never thought he’d get the chance to _act_ on it.

Not with Daryl Dixon, the guy who shunned him and everyone else the moment his mom died. Not with the guy who snapped like a dieting housewife at the smallest of comments, lashing out at the closest warm body. Not with the guy he’d been in fights with every other week since middle school, purposefully he might add, and who Shane knew, without a shadow of a doubt, hated his guts.

It had been a miracle in and of itself when he’d convinced Daryl to share the damn bed with him, rather than sleep on the cold floor. They’d argued about it for damn near half an hour before Shane had cornered the skittish archer and jabbed him not-too-softly in the abs, just hard enough to make his point.

“ _You’re hurt_ ,” Shane had told him, “ _Sleeping on the floor is just gonna fuck you up worse._ ” The bed wasn’t exactly large. It was a full size, just big enough for two men of their size to squeeze in side by side. But nonetheless, Daryl relented, hanging his head a bit and crawling into bed alongside Shane. _He must be drunker than I thought_ , Shane had thought amusedly, but he didn’t let the knowledge ruin his moment. Instead, he pulled the blanket up over the both of them and managed to make his breathing slow and easy. In no time at all, Daryl’s soft snores aligned with his own, and the archer was out like a light.

Shane realized all too late that he shouldn’t have started shit with Daryl- not _yesterday_ of all days. And despite Shane’s current locale, he still found himself regretting it. But hell, when he’d gone up to Daryl the previous morning, it hadn’t been out of malice at all. He knew good and well that he was the only one who remembered what that day meant. Anyone else Daryl had spent time with as a kid had given up long ago, but Shane held out the longest, hoping upon hope that he could break through to the boy who _used_ to be one of his best friends, but had retreated so far into himself that Shane barely recognized him. All he wanted was to say something to Daryl, something reassuring or kind to try and make up for all the bullshit he’d spouted in the boy’s direction in the past.

But Daryl had just flat out ignored him. In front of everyone, the whole goddamn school, the archer had pretended he couldn’t hear him or see him as he walked towards the front door. _“Hey man, how are you?”_ had been Shane’s brilliant opening line. He saw now how Daryl might have taken it as something sarcastic or baiting, but he’d meant it sincerely. Daryl had glowered angrily at him and shoved him away. Not particularly roughly, and not with a fraction of the strength Shane knew from experience that Daryl possessed. But just enough to get the message across.

Unfortunately, Shane couldn’t let that go. Not with so many onlookers, and with his ego shattered to pieces, alongside his hopes for renewing their friendship. A dig at Daryl’s truck didn’t get a response. The younger Dixon brother hardly batted an eye when Shane mocked his clothes. But that comment about his Dad…it was too far, and just far enough. There was a brief moment where Daryl met his eyes in disbelief, and what Shane saw there made him want to take it all back.

 _Hurt._  He’d fucking hurt Daryl. The statement had hit home, somehow. And after last night, Shane had his suspicions of why. But he also knew well enough that Daryl wouldn’t want to talk about it. There was a good chance he’d go bolting out of the room as soon as he woke up, blinded by shame. But that moment the night before when Daryl had finally trusted Shane to touch him, had been far too thrilling for Shane to give up on easily. He wanted more. So much more.

There was a small sound from beside him, no less than a whimper, and Shane refocused his attention on the sleeping boy. But one short glance told Shane that Daryl was not sleeping soundly. His face was scrunched up into something like agony, and his body kept twitching inwards, trying to curl itself smaller in fear of whatever dreams were tormenting him.

Shane reached out to touch Daryl’s shoulder, hoping to wake him gradually, but the smallest of touches had the opposite effect. Daryl bolted up in bed, eyes darting around wildly and chest heaving.

“Woah, Daryl, you’re okay man. You’re fine,” Shane tried, but the words didn’t make it through. He’d never seen the surly archer look so terrified before. He was shaking all over, and struggling to breathe.

Against his better judgment, and abandoning any sense of self-preservation he might have had, Shane decided to intervene. Moving quickly, he slipped in behind Daryl and wrapped his arms around his trembling body, forcing him flush against his chest and crooking one leg over Daryl’s lower half so he couldn’t escape.

“No, lemme go! Lemme go!” Daryl cried, wheezing audibly and thrashing within the larger boy’s grip.

“Not gonna do that, man. You’re okay, Daryl. It was just a dream. I just need you to breathe,” Shane replied calmly.

“No, no, no, no,” Daryl babbled still scratching at Shane’s arms, “Stop. S-stop Shane. I didn’t mean to. Didn’t mean to I swear! Lemme go, please don’t, don’t do this, please!”

Shane only held him tighter, reasonably sure at this point that Daryl wasn’t fully awake yet.

“Shh, you’re alright,” he hummed softly in Daryl’s ear, “You’re safe, man. No one’s gonna hurt ya. Just gonna hold on until you calm down, okay?

Daryl whimpered, but gradually stopped fighting to break Shane’s hold. His head canted to one side, cheek pressed above Shane’s heart, as he slowly regained himself. Shane watched with fascination as Daryl’s trembling abated, and his breathing normalized. And all the while, he stroked softly over Daryl’s messy locks, whispering reminders in his ear that he was safe.

“That’s it, man. That’s good,” Shane praised him. “You gonna be okay, now?”

“Mm,” Daryl grunted lowly, making no move to unweave himself from Shane’s body. From his position, Shane could see Daryl’s eyes were closed tightly, and his cheeks blotchy and red.

“That happen a lot?” Shane asked him.

He felt, more than saw, Daryl shrug noncommittally.

“M’glad I was here then,” Shane murmured. A moment later, he felt Daryl’s body tense up.

“Fuck,” Daryl whispered, trying to pull himself away from Shane. The older boy might have asked Daryl what was wrong, but the question was answered for him when one of Daryl’s hands shot down towards his crotch. Daryl winced when it made contact and cursed under his breath once more.

“Shit, s’been hours, ain’t it?” Shane said, “We slept a good while. Next time we’ve gotta set an alarm or somethin’ so it doesn’t get this bad.”

Daryl squeaked in genuine surprise when he felt Shane reach down to squeeze his half-hard dick. But Shane didn’t allow him to squirm away, and when he began to stroke Daryl’s cock firmly, caress Daryl’s chest with his free hand, the archer stopped struggling entirely.

“Shane, ya don’t gotta…” Daryl whispered uncertainly, but the dark-haired boy only hushed him, tightening his fist around Daryl’s length and memorizing the surprised moan the gesture elicited.

“Want to, man,” Shane assured him, “But fuck, this ain’t gonna take long at all, is it? You’re already leaking all over my hand.”

Daryl’s hips bucked up into Shane’s grasp and he groaned lowly. The mingling of pain and pleasure was distressing, even more so now that Daryl found himself craving it. He pushed his face into Shane’s bicep and tried to stifle the sounds escaping from his throat.

“What would you have done if I wasn’t here, huh Daryl? Wouldn’t have taken much. Maybe you would have gotten into the shower, gotten that cock of yours all soapy and wet and let it slide between your fingers until you shot off against the wall.”

Daryl let out an embarrassed huff that quickly became a moan when Shane twisted the palm of his hand over the sensitive head. “Fuck, fuck Shane…” Daryl whispered. He hated himself for enjoying this. _Dixons ain’t fags,_ that’s what his brother would say. But no one had ever bothered to touch him this gently before, or to murmur into his ear the way Shane had mastered. And if he was being really honest, it felt _good_ to be pressed up against the larger boy, safely encompassed in his arms. It felt more than good, even with the hardening presence of Shane’s cock pressing more and more insistently into his lower back.

“Or maybe you would have stayed right here in bed, laid out on your belly with your legs spread wide, fucking your dick into the sheets until you made a mess of yourself.”

“Shane,” Daryl groaned desperately, “Shane, I’m gonna—“

“Yeah, I know you are man. Can feel how hard you are for it. And you’re gonna do it for _me,_ aren’t you, Daryl?”

“Fuck, fuck, oh fuck,” Daryl panted before finally arching up into Shane’s lap and shooting all over his own chest. He forced his cock into the tightness of Shane’s fist, over and over until he finally collapsed back against the larger boy, spent. He pushed his face into the warm fabric of Shane’s shirt, panting hot puffs of air against him and keeping his eyes shut tight. Any other time, he might have been humiliated by how fast he’d lost control. But the relief of release was so intense that Daryl couldn’t be bothered to care.

“Bet that took the edge off, huh?” Shane cooed, and Daryl nodded complacently. To their mutual surprise, Daryl let out a soft, disproving hum when Shane went to slide out from underneath him, helping Daryl to carefully lay back, propped up by the pillows.

There was an air of suspicion in the archer’s eyes as he watched Shane knee-walk his way down the bed, situating himself between Daryl’s splayed legs and cocking an eyebrow to betray his intent.

“What are you doin’, Shane? I already-“

Daryl choked on his words when Shane’s mouth descended and engulfed his deflating member. The bliss of experiencing his first blow job was immediately negated by the overwhelming sensation of tongue stroking already frazzled nerves.

“Shane, stop. Please stop. S’too much!” Daryl groaned, and tried his best to get away. But Shane pressed two hands to his hips and held him still, mouth bobbing slowly, softly, and bringing his cock back to life whether he liked it or not.

It was intense. Shane’s mouth was hot and wet and his lips formed a perfect ring around Daryl’s length. Daryl wanted to beg him to stop, wanted to claim with any amount of conviction that he just wouldn’t be able to get off again. But maybe the nurse’s words had been truer than he hoped, because his cock was only getting harder, and Shane’s mouth just kept bobbing and stroking and milking him until he couldn’t breathe.

Shane could sense the moment that discomfort turned to bliss for the archer below him. A whole different type of tension radiated off of Daryl’s body, and his hips began to stutter up of their own volition, seeking out the tight, wet heat that he wasn’t accustomed to. On either side of Shane’s head, Daryl’s legs were trembling, spread wide but twitching violently inwards each time Shane swiped his tongue over the sensitive ridge running just under the head.

He glanced up from between Daryl’s legs, and found him breathing hard, biting at his lower lip and watching Shane intently, with those piercing blue eyes of his. Shane moaned in appreciation of the sight, and Daryl let out a desperate moan of his own at the sensation. Both of his hands went to Shane’s hair as he threw his head back into the pillow.

Shane pulled off with a slick pop and stroked with his hand, taking the time to lick slowly at his lips, now that he had Daryl’s full attention. He smirked to himself when he saw the poor kid couldn’t even breathe right.

“Guess I’m your first blow job too, huh Daryl?” The shock and lust etched all over the smaller teen’s face was enough of a confirmation. “Fuck, that’s hot. Being the first one to see you like this. The _only_ one if I get my way, and you know I always do.”

He twisted his fist around the head, with just enough pressure to be teasing, and Daryl bucked up into his hand.

“Yeah, you wanna come again, don’t you? Already got you off with my hand, and now I’m gonna do it with my mouth too. You need it bad, huh Daryl? Need my mouth on your cock…” Shane groaned at his own words, moving one hand down to palm his hard length through the thin cotton of his boxers.

“Bet you’re wondering how I’m gonna do it, ain’t that right Daryl? Whether I’ll pull off just in time so I can watch you shoot all over yourself, or if I’ll shove that cock of yours all the way down my throat, swallow down every last drop…fuck, I can hardly decide myself. You got an opinion on the matter?”

Shane had his own cock out now, and was stroking it slowly as he watched Daryl squirm under his caresses. Feeling mischievous, Shane abruptly dropped both hands from Daryl’s body, and instead refocused his efforts on his own pleasure. He smiled at the affronted, anxious expression on Daryl’s face. But Shane wasn’t going to give in easy. No, he wanted to hear Daryl say it.

“What’s wrong, man? If ya weren’t into it ya could have just said so,” Shane mocked, using two hands on his length and fucking into his own grip.

“Shane…” Daryl whispered uncertainly, and hell, that was a start. Probably all the eloquence the kid could muster under the circumstances.

“Well hey, you weren’t exactly being too responsive when I was going at it, now were you?” Shane reached out and wrapped two fingers around Daryl’s twitching cock and stroked ever so lightly over the sensitive glands. “You like it when I touch you? Is that what you want?”

His hand halted its movement and Daryl let out a huff of distress. “Ain’t gonna do it unless you tell me you want it, Daryl.”

Daryl seemed to have to bite at his lip for several moments in order to gather the nerve, but eventually he murmured, “I- I want it. Want you…want you to touch me, Shane.”

Shane gave him a wide grin, “All you had to do was ask.” He ducked his head back down and lapped at the head, smiling even wider when Daryl all but mewed underneath him, hands fumbling to grasp at his dark locks.

But then Shane’s tongue descended just a small degree farther south, and Daryl’s muscles locked up in fear. “Shane, d-don’t. It’ll hurt.”

“Naw man, it’ll feel really good, I promise. Ain’t gonna hurt ya, Daryl. Done enough of that for a lifetime,” Shane promised. And before Daryl could really grasp the meaning behind his words, Shane’s tongue was lapping carefully over his swollen balls, soaking them in spit and drawing designs across the taut skin.

“Haa- holy shit,” Daryl groaned. “Fuck, Shane…that’s…oh, fuck…” Any worry of pain was quickly replaced by startling pleasure, the kind Daryl could hardly ride out without screaming loud and long just to release some of the building pressure. Shane spent another couple minutes laving the battered orbs with attention, an apology in and of itself, before mouthing his way back up to Daryl’s pulsing dick and quickly sucking the organ down to the hilt.

“Nnngh!” Daryl moaned through his teeth. Shane could taste how close Daryl was, how his cock felt heavier than before, hotter. Pre-cum slicked over the back of his tongue, and Shane sped his pace on both Daryl and himself. Shane hit the point of no return faster than he expected, and quite suddenly, he was coming against the sheets, moaning around the cock in his mouth and forcing Daryl all the way down his throat.

The vibrations of Shane’s orgasm were enough to shove Daryl dramatically over the edge. He threw his head back and moaned loudly into the air, more desperate than Shane had heard him yet, and pumped his cock into Shane’s mouth. Daryl came hard, and whimpered when the muscles of Shane’s throat fluttered around his length in an effort to swallow him down.

When they eventually calmed, Daryl found himself watching Shane closely, trying to understand whatever was going on in the older boys’ head. Daryl had never thought he’d get the chance to experience, or that he’d even be able to tolerate, the kind of attention Shane had shown him over the last 24 hours. And he wanted it more now than he’d ever admit aloud. But the fear of Shane ripping the rug out from under him was growing constantly. That voice in the back of his head that told him no one would ever care about him, that everyone left eventually, whispered incessantly to him that he should leave first. _Run_ , it said.

“Shane,” Daryl said softly, “Why are you still here?”

Shane frowned slightly, but easily identified the insecurity in Daryl’s tone. “’Cuz I wanna be, man. I mean seriously, y’ain’t figured it out by now?”

“Figured what out?”

Shane propped himself up on an elbow. “This,” he said, indicating between the two of them, “Been wantin’ this for a while.”

He could have laughed at how confused Daryl was by his statement.

“But you hate me.”

“No I don’t, man. Ya fuckin’ frustrate me. Wantin’ shit you can’t have is frustratin’.”

“Why you always startin’ fights with me then?”

“Why do you think? You see me wrestlin’ with any other guys out in the schoolyard? Fightin’ s’better than nothin’.”

Daryl brooded on that for a moment. “I ain’t a fag,” he muttered.

And to his surprise, Shane barked out a laugh. “Man that ain’t what I’m sayin’.”

“ _You_ ain’t one. People at school talk, ya been with plenty of girls,” Daryl pointed out.

“I have,” Shane confirmed, “And I like girls plenty. But they ain’t the only thing I want. Don’t want you to get the wrong idea, man. Ain’t like I’m lookin’ at every guy that passes my way. S’far as I can tell, it’s just you. But I’ve looked at you plenty.”

“So…what do ya want from me?” Daryl asked him. _Everything_ , Shane immediately thought, but he kept that gut reaction to himself.

“Whatever you wanna give, man. And no more than that. The stuff we’ve done so far, you’re good with it?”

Daryl sighed and rubbed at his eyes, “Mm,” he grunted affirmatively. Shane studied the bags under his eyes, the careful way he was holding his body. Daryl was probably still hurting from yesterday, and emotionally spent from the nightmare, and the panic attack that had followed. Hell, the stuff he and Shane had done probably hadn’t helped either. Daryl looked more wrapped up in his head now than Shane had ever seen him.

“Why dontcha just go back to sleep awhile, okay? You could use it.” Shane moved to get off the bed.

“You’re leavin’?” Daryl immediately questioned, and Shane stopped in his tracks at the look of alarm tarnishing the boy’s face. Daryl sat straight up in bed, wincing at the sudden movement.

“No, no man,” Shane shushed him, pushing at Daryl’s chest until he tentatively lay back down. “Just getting somethin’ to clean us off. I ain’t goin’ nowhere. Ya don’t gotta worry about that.” Shane sighed, and figured, _fuck it, we can always wash the sheets._ He crawled back into bed beside Daryl, helping the boy to roll onto his side and then molding his body against Daryl’s skinny form. The archer went tense for a moment, disarmed by the closeness, before visibly giving in to the warmth, and relaxing against Shane and the bed.

“Sorry,” Daryl began to rasp, “For…”

“Don’t worry about it, man. Just sleep,” Shane demanded gently, and Daryl complied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, I just love this pairing. How are y'all feeling?


	3. Chapter 3

Shane woke up to low whimpering, and a trembling body curved into his chest. Daryl was in pain again; he had to be, from the anxious, muffled noises escaping his lips. Shane glanced over at the clock.

“Shit, it’s only been a couple hours?”

The smaller boy sighed a little when he realized that Shane was awake now, but still attempted to bite back his pained noises. “Dunno what’s wrong with me. Nurse said only three times, maybe four…”

Shane pulled at Daryl’s shoulder until he was lying on his back, and grazed a hand over his clothed chest, “Hey man, don’t worry. It’s gonna be fine. I’ll take care of ya, okay?”

Daryl had to fight the instinct to bite back  _I don’t fuckin’ need you to take care of me_. But luckily, he was too distressed to garner up much hostility. Instead he swallowed another whine and mumbled, “Ain’t supposda hurt this bad. Not this soon. Something’s wrong…”

“Shh, don’t go panicking, alright? We’ll figure it out,” Shane soothed him, and for the first time Daryl could remember, words alone managed to ease some of his pain.  _We_ , Shane promised; Daryl wasn’t on his own in this, and for that he was unreasonably thankful. He had a high tolerance for pain, but this wasn’t the kind he was accustomed to, and the dull throb was beginning to border on agonizing.

“You sure the nurse didn’t say anything else? Nothin’ that could help us?”

“Just how many times, and that if I didn’t I’d have to go to the hospital, and somethin’ ‘bout prostates…”

“Prostate?” Shane interrupted, “What about it? Like prostate massage?”

“Dunno, think she said prostate ‘stimulation.’ Whatever that is…”

“Man, don’t you pay attention in health class?” Shane asked with a genuine smile, but Daryl only frowned in return, shaking his head in the negative. “It’s a gland, right? All men got one. Plays a hand in makin’ you come.”

“Okay…”

“And when you massage it, it feels really fuckin’ good, and it’ll milk every last drop out of ya. Lotta guys can get off just from that.”

Shane sat up on his knees and situated himself between Daryl’s naked legs. Wasting no time with permission, he took the boy’s cock in hand and began to pump slowly, easing him into his arousal.

Daryl seemed to try to writhe away from the soft touches, making Shane smile.

“But how do you…uh…massage it? Ain’t it… _inside_?”

The utter confusion on the poor boy’s face nearly had Shane second-guessing his decision to push further. But Christ, if he could only show Daryl how  _good_  it was, he knew the archer would end up begging for more. Begging for  _him_. He just needed to show him once.

So Shane wet two fingers in his mouth, Daryl carefully tracking his movements all the while, then slowly brought them to Daryl’s puckered opening and swirled them in careful circles, providing the lightest of pressures.

Daryl reacted instantly, viciously, and exactly how Shane expected. The younger Dixon shot up off the bed, pulling his body away from Shane’s with wide eyes and face crestfallen by the obvious betrayal.

“Hey, hey, I ain’t gonna do somethin’ ya say no too,” Shane immediately cooed, raising his hands up in mock surrender, “But that’s how you do a prostate massage. Like you said, it’s inside.”

Daryl bit steadily at his lip, shifting his weight in clear discomfort and pain. He  _wanted_  to believe the older boy; wanted to believe anything at this point that would ease the throbbing sting between his legs.

“Won’t it hurt?” he asked eventually, in a voice softer than a whisper.

“Might burn a bit,” Shane answered honestly, “But just for a second. I’ve done it myself. Feels good, Daryl; I promise. Lemme make you feel that good.”

Still gnawing at his lower lip, Daryl gave him an exceptionally tentative nod, and a second later, Shane had resumed his careful stroking with both hands. Daryl watched him closely, his face a carefully guarded veil of indifference. But Shane didn’t miss the way he flinched when he felt the first instance of true pressure at his untouched hole.

“Gotta try to relax,” Shane instructed gently, “It only hurts when you’re all wound up like this.”

“Fuck you,” Daryl bit out.

“I’m serious, Daryl. I won’t hurt you,” Shane growled, then leaned forward to slowly lick and nip upon Daryl’s neck and collar bone. The archer moaned softly beneath him, forgetting himself for just a moment. And all at once, Shane was able to slip his finger inside.

The immediate sting prompted Daryl to whimper, and bury his face in Shane’s shoulder. But the older boy took charge of the situation, moving his finger slowly in and out and feeling around for that one golden spot that would make Daryl come like a freight train.

Shane abandoned his mission to stroke the boy off, and instead used his free hand to prop himself over Daryl’s body, providing the comfort of his warmth and biting at the boy’s neck as he slowly caressed inside. A minute of careful prodding, and Shane’s finger grazed over something walnut-sized and hard.

Daryl shouted out a brazen, startled moan, and Shane felt the boy’s cock twitch between their abdomens, already leaking from the unfamiliar stimulation. And with that encouragement, Shane began to rub the gland slowly, delighting when Daryl sobbed into his shoulder.

“Oh god, oh god…”

“Yeah, you like that? It feel good, Daryl?”

“Fuck, oh Jesus fuck…”

“You sure you don’t want me to stop?” Shane teased, slowing his movements. And Daryl’s eyes shot open, more earnest and wanting than he’d ever seen them.

“Please, Shane. Please don’t stop,” he begged.

“Dunno, man. Y’ain’t exactly singin’ praises…”

And at that, Daryl flung himself forward into Shane’s body without a thought to the consequences. He straddled the larger boy and ground their hard cocks together, groaning openly and begging with his body. The archer managed to push down the embarrassment at his own weakness, because what the _fuck_ was that and why the _fuck_ had he stopped. Shane’s finger had slipped from him during the journey, and Daryl ground down instinctually, searching for that incredible friction.

“Please, Shane,” Daryl groaned, both hands gripping Shane’s shoulders hard enough to bruise. “Felt so good. Please don’t stop.”

Cock twitching incessantly, Shane quickly reached for his jeans and grabbed the small bottle of lube he’d placed in his back pocket on a whim. He slicked two fingers and teased them around Daryl’s entrance, wanting to hear the boy beg for it again.

“Shane,  _Shane_ ,” the archer whimpered, and Shane wanted to pull that quivering lip into his mouth and suck on it ‘til it was raw.

“Yeah, you want it don’t you? You wanna ride my fingers, Daryl?”

When Daryl nodded rapidly in response, unable to form coherent words, Shane lost his last semblance of control. He slid two fingers inside the writhing boy, quickly locating his prostate and rubbing over the spot again and again.

Daryl became a picture of wanton bliss above him, rocking back against his fingers and keening loudly with every movement. His head was thrown back and his eyes clenched shut, unable to endure any additional stimulation from the world around him. His pulsing cock bobbed up and down with every thrust, leaking pre-cum between them in a steady, white stream.

“Fuck, Daryl, you’re so fuckin’ hot right now,” Shane groaned. He gripped Daryl’s neck with his spare hand, stroking the soft skin there tenderly and holding him steady as the boy rode him in shallow, jerky movements.

“Look at me,” Shane abruptly ordered, and Daryl was in no position to protest. His eyes opened and locked onto the brawny brunette underneath him. Daryl couldn’t seem to stop moaning. Every stroke over that place inside made him sob indecipherable words, until his mouth hung open constantly, pretty pink tongue darting out to wet his lips every now and again.

“Fuck, Daryl,” Shane whispered, lazing his eyes over the taut body writhing around in his lap. “Fuck, I wanna kiss you. Let me kiss you,” Shane half-begged and half-demanded, knowing full and well that this might be the crippling request that sent Daryl packing.

But Daryl continued to rock against the thick fingers inside of him, and whispered, “Dunno…dunno how.”

“S’alright, I’ll show you,” Shane promised breathlessly, “Just lemme show you.” And when Daryl’s eyes flickered down to the older boy’s lips, Shane pressed his mouth to his instantly, moaning at the contact. Daryl was hesitant at first, but with Shane’s encouragement he began to respond, rolling his tongue into Shane’s mouth and letting the older boy guide him.

They kissed like it was their last time, and Shane rubbed hard at Daryl’s prostate, swallowing the boy’s blissed-out cries.

“Please, please Shane,” Daryl whimpered against his lips between kisses, “Please make me…I  _can’t_ …oh, God…”

Shane wrapped his fist around Daryl’s cock, and pumped him in time with his knowing fingers. Twice, maybe three times, and then Daryl was coming hard and with a loud cry, spurting thick, white come all over himself and Shane and grinding down into those fingers that had made it all happen.

“Oh fuck, oh _fuck_ ,” Daryl groaned, and was grateful to feel Shane’s arms wrap around him when his body went limp and weak.

He let his forehead drop to Shane’s shoulder and panted in the familiar musk of the older boy’s skin, trying to hide his red cheeks. It had been strange, sure. Hurt a little, at first. And it had made him feel vulnerable, exposed. But it had also been  _good_. Felt so fucking good, better than anything he could remember in his short, fucked up life.

To Daryl’s relief, Shane didn’t utter a word. The larger boy pet him gently, toyed with his unruly hair, and mouthed along his neck, and cheek. Shane figured Daryl would feel humiliated by what had just happened, and need time to process. And for that reason, he was surprised enough to gasp aloud when he felt Daryl tentatively grasp his aching member.

Daryl awkwardly ran his fingers up and down, then met Shane’s eyes.

“What do I do?” he asked seriously, and Shane had to fight not to tackle him in another dominating kiss. Instead, he wrapped his hand around Daryl’s and they began to stroke him in tandem.

“Fuck, that’s good,” Shane sighed, “That’s so good, Daryl.” He tightened his fist around Daryl’s hand, and urged him to pick up the pace. And when Daryl seemed to get the hang of it, Shane let his hand drop back to the bed, and watched the boy he’d been fantasizing about for years slowly work his cock.

Daryl was biting at his lip in concentration, face determined. And when he ran a thumb over the sensitive head, and Shane groaned lewdly, the older boy thought he saw the faintest gleam of a smile.

“Yeah, that’s it, Daryl. Just like that,” Shane encouraged him. Hardly a minute in, and he was dangerously close to coming. But the fact that it was  _Daryl_  doing this to him was almost too much to bear.

“Fuck, yeah Daryl. That’s so good. You’re gonna make me come.”

Daryl looked him right in the eye, and Shane thought he saw a twinkle there of something sinister and abandoned.

“Do it.”

A fucking  _demand_.

And Shane lost it. He came without warning, bucking up off the bed and groaning Daryl’s name repeatedly, strewn in with a mix of curses and praise. Completely spent, Shane fell back onto the bedspread with Daryl still straddling his legs, and let out a deep sigh.

“ _Fuck._ ”

TWDTWDTWDTWD

Shane couldn’t help but smile in amusement at the way that small shred of confidence Daryl had displayed dissipated as soon as they pulled their clothes back on. He couldn’t really hold it against him though, not when 24 hours before they’d been beating each other into the ground.

So Shane strolled through Daryl’s shamble of a house like he owned it, and started rifling through the kitchen.

“Man I’m starving,” he announced when he came up empty-handed. “Seriously, no food? Doesn’t your dad ever go grocery shopping?”

Daryl stood in the doorway and stared down at the floor. He gave a slight shrug. “He ain’t been home in a while.”

Shane’s expression softened, and he chastised himself for whining about something that clearly bothered the younger boy. “Alright well, why don’t we go out and get some food then?”

“We’d be better off huntin’,” Daryl countered.

Shane tilted his head a bit to gaze at the boy. “You do that a lot?”

“Mm,” Daryl grunted, before heading back into the living room and returning with a crossbow slung over his shoulder.

“You sure you don’t wanna just hit the drive through? You’re still pretty beat up. Don’t wanna make it worse,” Shane said.

Daryl felt a squeezing sensation in his chest that he couldn’t quite identify at Shane’s sincere, worried tone. “M’fine,” he scoffed.

“Well, alright then.”

TWDTWDTWDTWD

If Shane hadn’t known Daryl for as long as he had, he might not have recognized him out in the woods. He was a completely different person there; perfectly at ease with himself and his surroundings. Talkative, of all things, as he instructed Shane on various tracking techniques.

And even though Shane loved seeing Daryl like this- genuinely happy- it also made his blood burn with fear. If Daryl was _this_ damn good at tracking, then there was a reason. It wasn’t about sport. Daryl had made that much clear when empty cupboards prompted him to pick up his bow. How many times had Daryl trekked around these woods alone, just to put a meal on the table? How much time had he spent out here, rather than safe, warm, and at home?

_Maybe it was to get away from his home_ , Shane suddenly considered. And when that thought frightened him more than anything, he curtailed his inner monologue and refocused his attention on the silent hunter.

Abruptly, Daryl stopped in his tracks and brought the bow up to eye-level. He was tracking something across the icy pond, something that Shane couldn’t see. There was a sharp snap as the archer pulled the trigger, and then an owl fell from a tree hanging over the pond and hit the ice with a dull thud.

Daryl went to stomp out over the ice and retrieve it, but Shane’s arms immediately shot out to stop him.

“Woah, man, that ain’t fuckin’ worth it,” Shane said, “We don’t know how thick that ice is.”

“S’freezin’ out here. Bet it’s solid all the way through. I’ll be fine,” Daryl scoffed, and carefully tread out onto the ice. He left his bow behind, propped up against a tree by Shane’s feet, and Shane couldn’t help but think that that meant something.

But then Daryl fell through the ice, and Shane couldn’t think at all.

The pond was deeper than either of them had realized, at least six feet at the center. Daryl’s head sunk out from view, and Shane’s heart dropped.

Shane was out on the ice before he’d considered the danger, going carefully to his knees by the hole Daryl had disappeared into and thrusting one hand into the ice-cold water. His only reassurance was the two hands scrambling for purchase against the thin ice around him. He grabbed Daryl by the collar of his jacket and pulled with all his weight behind it. And Daryl erupted from the water with a gasp, clawing at Shane desperately.

The ice was already cracking around them, so Shane wasted no time in hoisting Daryl up onto his shoulder and whisking him out to safety. He settled the archer down on the hard ground to get a proper look at him.

“Fuck! Fuck Daryl, what were you thinking?” he shouted, eyeing the boy’s blue lips and trembling form. “Gotta get you somewhere warm. C’mon!”

And when Daryl didn’t respond, just stared up at him blankly with hair iced over his forehead, Shane hauled him up on one shoulder, grabbed the crossbow with his free hand, and took off. They’d parked the car only a mile or so away, and Shane was damn thankful for that. He ran the way there in less than ten minutes, even with the shivering boy’s weight holding him back.

Shane panicked the entire ride back. He shouted at Daryl to get his clothes off, to do _something_ , but the boy just sat there dejectedly, shuddering in his damp clothing that was painted to his skin.

Refusing to waste any more time, Shane carried Daryl inside, settling him down on the couch and quickly working to start a fire. With it lit, he turned back to find Daryl in the exact same position, looking dazed and bluer by the second.

“For fuck’s sake, Daryl, we’ve gotta get your clothes off!” Shane growled in frustration.

He went for the boots and socks first, then struggled to peel off the boy’s damp jeans and boxers. The jacket was easy enough to remove, even without Daryl’s help. But when Shane went to unbutton Daryl’s shirt, then the archer finally came alive.

“D-don’t!” Daryl coughed, trying with frozen hands to slap Shane’s away.

“Ain’t got time for your damn modesty, Dixon. You’re gonna freeze to death!” Shane snarled, continuing to unbutton his shirt.

“D-don’t, don’t. P-p-please, Shane,” Daryl whimpered, clenching his eyes shut and pushing at the older boy’s hands weakly. But Shane was paying him no mind. He ripped the soaked fabric off of Daryl’s body, and hauled him over to the fireplace, dropping him to the ground while he went off to find some towels.

It was only after he trotted back into the room, and got a good look at Daryl’s hunched-over, trembling, naked form, that Shane realized why Daryl had put up such a fight.

Every ounce of panic and frustration evaporated from Shane’s system, and he stood frozen in the doorway. _Scars_. Marks of all shapes and sizes, some from belts and others circular burns from cigarettes put out on adolescent skin. Some of them weren’t even healed yet, doled out within the last few weeks, certainly.

Shane approached Daryl cautiously, crouched down to his level and wrapped a towel around him from behind.

Daryl flinched as if he’d been struck. “N-no. D-don’t, Shane. _Please_.”

Shane began to dry Daryl’s hair, and the boy’s trembling only seemed to worsen. “Hey, man, it’s alright. Just gotta get you warm and dry before you get sick.”

“D-don’t, don’t…” Daryl continued to mumble, and Shane wasn’t too sure how coherently the shivering boy was thinking.

Once he was convinced that Daryl’s hair was sufficiently dry, Shane crawled around to his front and began to run the towel over him limb by limb.

“Jesus, look at you. _Told_ you not to go out there,” Shane grumbled mostly to himself, but when he looked up, Daryl was gazing at him with wide, frightened eyes.

“M’sorry,” he whispered, trying to pull his body away from Shane’s stroking hands.

“Daryl, I ain’t _mad_ at you,” Shane said in surprise, but Daryl’s eyes remained trained on the floor. “Look at me,” Shane demanded, and watery blue eyes shot up to meet his. “I’m not mad, Daryl. I’m _scared_. Watching you go down like that…it scared the shit out of me. I don’t like seeing you hurt, or sick.”

Shane reached up to cup Daryl’s cheek, and the boy flinched away fearfully. “Hey, hey, I’m not gonna hurt you, man,” Shane swore, stroking one hand down the side of Daryl’s neck. “Please just fuckin’ believe me on this. I won’t hurt you, alright? _I won’t_.”

And when his words seemed to calm the trembling boy somewhat, Shane stood up and quickly skimmed out of his shirt and jeans, then situated himself down behind Daryl and wrapped a blanket around his body. He pulled Daryl across his lap, hugging their chests together and stroking his hands over the boy’s marred back.

It didn’t take a mind-reader to figure out why Daryl recoiled each time Shane’s fingers grazed over a scar. But Shane simply held him tight and ignored Daryl’s fussing until the boy eventually began to relax in his arms.

Slowly, Daryl was warming up. The color was returning to his cheeks, the feeling to his hands and feet, and he finally felt like he could think again. Tiredly, Daryl let his cheek rest against Shane’s shoulder, pressing his cold nose to Shane’s neck and making the boy jump.

“Jesus, figures you’d have a cold nose. Mangy mutt y’are,” Shane teased. “At least you’re warmin’ up alright.”

“S’better now,” Daryl breathed, and then, with a great deal more difficulty, “Thank you.”

It didn’t escape Shane how foreign those words sounded coming from the hunter’s mouth.

But rather than bring attention to it, Shane said, “Yeah, y’ain’t shakin’ much now at all. Just try not to give me any more heart attacks anytime soon.”

There was a long silence before Daryl rasped in a voice that cracked in and out with indecision, “Didn’t want you to see them.”

“I know you didn’t,” Shane replied, because he wasn’t sure what else he _could_ say.

“I’ve never…never let _anyone_ see ‘em.”

“Daryl, I never woulda said all that shit about your dad, not if I’d known-“

“S’fine, Shane.”

“No it _ain’t_. Jesus, it’s the farthest fuckin’ thing from fine,” Shane growled, and his angry tone made Daryl tense up in his arms.

Shane took notice. “Hey, I ain’t mad at you, man, don’t want you thinkin’ that,” he said in a softer voice. “But if I see that asshole… Daryl, I can’t promise I won’t kill him.”

“Ya wouldn’t be the first to try,” Daryl mumbled tiredly. Shane’s hands moved smoothly over his back and into his hair, rubbing soft circles, and the archer found himself being lulled unwittingly into a foggy haze of exhaustion.

_I’ll be the last_ , Shane thought.

“S’right, just sleep, man. That’s good,” Shane drawled against his ear. “Don’t worry ‘bout a thing, alright? I’ll take care of ya.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As many of you may have guessed, the premise for this fic was formulated entirely around the porn I wanted to create. But now there are all these feelings involved, and Sharyl are just so damn adorable together...y'all get the picture. Please review!


	4. Chapter 4

Daryl awoke fairly disoriented. His first sensation, far before he opened his eyes, was heat. He was sweating hard, sweltering and cocooned by warmth. He opened his eyes and realized next that he was lying on his back, staring up at the living room ceiling. He went to scratch his nose, and found himself wholly unable to move.

Somehow, Shane had stacked every available blanket in the house on top of him as he slept. So with great effort, Daryl heaved the mound of tattered blankets to the flour and sat up on the edge of the couch. The room was warm as well, fire still roaring in the corner. He could smell something cooking in the kitchen, and recognized the sound of Shane rifling around.

Daryl tread quietly over to the bedroom and pulled on a clean pair of boxers and sweatpants. It was only when he’d slipped quietly into the kitchen that Daryl realized he’d forgotten a shirt. He had half a mind to turn back and retrieve one, but then Shane turned towards him by chance, and Daryl had to bite back his cringe.

“He lives,” Shane said with a smile, striding towards him. But there was only warmth in the way the older boy was looking at him. No disguised revulsion or pity, or even surprise at seeing Daryl walk around without a shirt for the first time.

Daryl’s eyes widened in shock when Shane carefully ran his hands up his arms, over his chest, then finally up his neck and through his hair. He moved slowly and methodically, as if confirming that Daryl was really there. “Feelin’ better?” Shane asked him, with his hands settled on Daryl’s neck.

“Mm,” Daryl grunted with a shrug, uncomfortable with encompassing Shane’s undivided attention. And even more so with just how comfortable Shane was becoming with him. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched him like that, softly, for no reason at all. And even though that realization left Daryl warmer than that mountain of blankets could ever have managed, the unfamiliarity of it all left him pushing the sensation down and burying it.

“You can cook?” Daryl asked quickly, changing the topic.

“Well don’t sound so damn surprised,” Shane replied. “I’m makin’ chili. Sound alright?”

“Yeah, sounds good, just didn’t peg ya as a housewife s’all.”

Shane’s cheery expression darkened to some degree, and Daryl instantly regretted opening his mouth. But then Shane softly explained, “My Dad took off a few years back. And my Mom’s gotta work doubles to make ends meet. So I cook for myself most of the time.”

Daryl shifted his weight back and forth from foot to foot, and looked up at Shane through his bangs with an expression of understanding. “Where’d all this come from, then?”

At that, Shane gave him a small smile. “The fuckin’ store. You’ve been out for a while. Didn’t wanna give you any more excuses to go get yourself killed once you woke up.”

“Didn’t have to do all this,” Daryl mumbled, biting at his lower lip.

Shane stepped forward and placed a hand on his waist, prompting Daryl to shiver noticeably. “We’ve talked about this, man. I _want_ to. Now sit down and eat.”

Doing as he was instructed, Daryl plopped down at the kitchen table, and gratefully accepted the heaping bowl of food Shane offered him. Grabbing some food of his own, Shane sat down beside him. They ate in amicable silence for a while, before Shane abruptly said, “So Rick’s having a party tonight.”

Daryl eyed him skeptically, waiting for Shane to continue.

“I was thinkin’ we could go,” Shane finished, cocking an eyebrow.

Daryl set down his fork. “That ain’t a good idea.”

“Really? Cuz I think it’s a great idea. Probably the best idea I’ve had in days.”

“Those people don’t like me. They ain’t gonna want me there.”

“No, they don’t _know_ you. ‘Cuz you never let them know you. That’s different.”

“But...”

“And if they got the chance to hang out with you, I’d bet money they’d like ya. Rick especially; he’s been my best friend my whole damn life.”

“Does he know...?”

“Nah, he doesn’t. Don’t think he’d judge me for it, just hasn’t come up. Hadn’t exactly acted on it ‘til yesterday. But c’mon, Daryl. It’ll be fun. Get you outta the damn house for a while now that you’ve had two near-death experiences in two days.”

Daryl crossed his arms over his chest, “The fight with you don’t count. Y’ain’t half as dangerous as that pond was,” he scoffed.

“You’re avoidin’ the issue here. Come out with me tonight.”

“Ain’t you gonna go either way?”

Shane watched him for a beat. “No. I want to hang with you. Think it’d be more fun if we were drinkin’ and partyin’ with folks our age, but it’s up to you man. Your call.”

The archer huffed out a slow breath through his nose. _Why’d he always have to say the right fuckin’ thing?_ “Fine.”

And Daryl very nearly cracked a grin at how wide Shane’s smile instantly became.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

“I don’t wanna do this.”

“Yeah, well we’re already here.”

“You leave me alone with them, and I’ll kill you Shane. I’m serious.”

Shane reached out to grasp the handle of the front door, “Duly noted.”

And for all the time Daryl had spent worrying about what people would think when they saw him, he was surprised to find that not a single person seemed to notice when he and Shane arrived together. This may largely have been attributed to the fact that the house was already a wreck. With Rick’s parents out of town, most of the junior class was in attendance. The floor was sticky from spilt beer, and there was hardly space to stand.

Shane led Daryl to the kitchen and got them both a drink, and the skittish archer was just beginning to think that this might not be so bad after all, when a booming drawl echoed from behind them, “Shane! You son of a bitch!”

Daryl tensed instantly, preparing to fight, and surprised himself with his willingness to fight on someone _else’s_ behalf, to defend Shane without a second thought. But then Daryl saw that Shane’s expression was anything but grim, and that the booming voice belonged to none other than Rick Grimes.

“I told ya to come _early_ ,” Rick continued, clapping his hand to Shane’s shoulder. And Daryl felt the smallest flare of anger, which he quickly and quietly suppressed.

“Ya know I prefer to be fashionably late,” Shane countered.

“Well here’s to hopin’ that Lori don’t have the same problem, or else I’m gonna be havin’ a real awkward conversation with my parents when they get home,” Rick exclaimed, raising his cup in the air dramatically and letting his beer slosh to the floor.

“Christ, Grimes, you’re a fuckin’ lightweight.”

“Nah, you’re just late to the party man! Gotta catch you up. You an’ Dixon here,” Rick slurred, clumsily moving to pour them both another beer. Abruptly, he dropped the half-full cup and looked rapidly between Daryl and Shane. “Hey, hey, hey, hey what are ya’ll doin’ here together? Thought ya hated each other or somethin’?”

“Uh...”

“We decided to kiss and make up,” Shane interjected, moving inches closer to the clearly uncomfortable boy beside him.

“So y’all are...friends now?”

“Best friends,” Shane said with a smile.

With surprising agility, Rick suddenly reached out to grasp Daryl by the shoulders. “Man, I am so _happy_ for you. Shane, he’s the _best_. I mean he’s an asshole. Definitely an asshole. But once you get past all the layers of bullshit he’s just the best. Y’know what I’m sayin’?”

“Uh....yeah, Rick. I gotcha.”

“S’good,” Rick hiccupped, taking a step back. Shane was the only one to notice Daryl’s sigh of relief at regaining his personal space, and rewarded him by discreetly and briefly rubbing a hand along his lower back.

“Rick!” called a shrill voice from the other end of the kitchen.

“That’d be Lori,” Shane whispered for Daryl’s benefit.

“RICK!”

Looking mildly alarmed, Rick took two faltering step backwards. He paused and gestured between Daryl and Shane. “You two,” he drawled.

“RICK where ARE you?!”

Rick spun around on his heels with an over-enthusiastic “Gotta go!”, and Shane turned to look Daryl in the eye.

“You havin’ fun yet?” Shane asked with a grin.

Daryl rolled his eyes. “Gonna take a hell of a lot more booze for that to happen.”

The statement turned out to be somewhat portentous, as two hours and no fewer than eight refills later, Daryl was collapsed on the couch with Shane pressed firmly to his side, sighing in contentment as the world swayed around him.  

It was sometime past midnight, and the house had mostly cleared out. A handful of teens were left passed out on the floor, and in various states of disarray on the adjacent couches. Rick and Lori had disappeared up to his bedroom shortly after their arrival. And no one paid them any mind when Shane’s hand gradually migrated from his lap to Daryl’s.

Daryl’s body thrummed pleasantly at the sensation, but his eyes shot open nonetheless, darting around the room without any focus. “Shane, s’people here,” he mumbled.

“What, you embarrassed of me?”

“Ya want people to know?” Daryl countered, and the football player smiled lazily at him.

“If it means I get to touch you right now, then y’ain’t gonna hear me complainin’.” His hand crept to the inside of Daryl thigh, rubbing in tortuously slow circles that instantly reminded the younger boy of just how _long_ it had been since the two of them had gotten off.

“Shane, please not here,” Daryl groaned, writhing away ineptly. He grabbed Shane’s torturous hand and held in place, seeking our Shane’s bleary eyes. “If word got ‘round to Merle, or my dad...it’d be bad for me. Please.”

The words sobered Shane up enough to allow him to sit up straight and grasp Daryl firmly by the shoulder. “I ain’t gonna let that happen, alright? I won’t. No one’s hurtin’ you any more.”

Daryl’s eyes darted down to his lap. “Y’can’t promise that. And...an’ you’re drunk...”

“Seriously? You been payin’ any attention today? I won’t let him hurt you, Daryl. I’ll fuckin’ kill him if I have to,” Shane growled, grasping the smaller boy by the back of his neck. He was propped on one knee now, leaning menacingly over Daryl’s body.

“Please, Shane?” Daryl whispered. Neither was too sure whether he was begging for Shane to stop or keep going, but Shane took the initiative to grab him by the collar and pull him to his feet. He all but carried a shaky Daryl up the stairs, and shoved him into the first door on the right, which turned out to be Rick’s parents’ bedroom.

Shane kicked the door shut behind him. He spun around to find Daryl already laid out on the bed, propped up on his elbows to watch Shane saunter sloppily towards him. His knees hit the edge of the mattress, settling between Daryl’s spread legs. Shane leaned over Daryl’s body and grazed a hand up and down his chest.

“Liked ya better naked,” Shane said with a grin.

Daryl huffed out a laugh. “You’re drunk.”

“So are you,” Shane countered. His hand hovered over the top button on Daryl’s flannel. “Lemme take it off ya?”

Daryl gazed up at him uncertainly for a beat, before rasping out, “Alright.”

Even with explicit permission, Shane took his time about undressing Daryl. He kept his eyes on Daryl’s face as he slowly unbuttoned the younger boy’s shirt, and skimmed it off his shoulders. And he moved slowly as he unbuckled Daryl’s belt, and gracelessly jerked his jeans and boxers off slim legs. Shane smiled at how hard the boy was already, cock jutting up towards his belly button expectantly.

“Yeah, you want this,” Shane crowed, taking Daryl in hand and watching the boy’s eyes darken.

But rather than lie back and take whatever was given to him, as Shane expected Daryl to do, the archer instead attempted to sit up straight and stop Shane’s movements. Shane let his hand fall to Daryl’s thigh, waiting for an explanation.

“Ain’t you...ain’t you gonna...?” Daryl rasped, pink spreading from his cheeks all the way down his chest.

“That what you want?” Shane responded after a brief moment of confusion.

Daryl nodded with his eyes trained on the ground, and Shane quickly ripped his shirt over his head and let his jeans fall from his hips. He moved to pull off his boxers too, but then spotted the hesitance veiling Daryl’s features.

“Hey man, you alright with this?”

“What? I...yeah...yeah...” Daryl mumbled, “S’just, we ain’t never...”

Shane pressed a hand to Daryl’s shoulder and stroked the skin there reassuringly. “Ain’t gonna ask ya to do somethin’ ya don’t wanna do,” he reminded Daryl, “Not gonna try to fuck ya, right outta the blue, if that’s what you’re worried about. How’s about we start with somethin’ easy, yeah?”

And with that, Shane leaned in and kissed him. Even though the gesture was only vaguely familiar to Daryl, the softness of it put him at ease. And soon, Shane and Daryl were wrapped together on the bed, legs intertwined, and naked erections grinding together in a slow rhythm as they kissed.

Daryl scratched at Shane’s scalp with both hands, and the boy shivered all the way down to his toes.

“Fuck, Daryl, just like that,” Shane moaned, arching his hips into the body underneath his and letting the heat of their combined arousal seep into his bones. His lips moved down to Daryl’s neck, sucking and biting at every inch of exposed skin, and Daryl writhed underneath him.

“Shane, Shane please...”

“Please what, man? What do you need?” Shane prodded, “Can’t be your cock that needs attention. He’s gettin’ enough as is. You can tell me, Daryl. Tell me what you want.”

Daryl’s eyes slammed shut and he buried his face in Shane’s shoulder, “Please, Shane?”

He felt Shane’s body shake as he chuckled lightly against him, “Gotta do better than that.”

“ _Shane_ ,” Daryl whimpered, when the older boy sucked sharply at his collarbone. “Please, Shane...do it... like last time...Jesus, why do ya have to make me say shit?”

This time, Shane’s chuckle became a full scale laugh, and he snaked one hand between them, teasing along the inside of Daryl’s thigh until a single finger stroked the boy where Shane knew he needed it most.

“This what you want, Daryl? This what you’re tryin’ to ask for?”

“Yeah...”

“Felt good, huh? Bet you never felt anything that good in your whole damn life.”

“Shane...”

“And now you wanna ride my fingers all over again. Fuckin’ greedy s’what you are. Maybe I won’t let ya. Maybe I’ll fuck _you_ , yeah? Maybe I’ll fuck my fingers into your ass ‘til you come all over yourself.”

“Gonna lose your fuckin’ chance if ya don’t get to it, already!” Daryl huffed out in embarrassment concealed by impatience. “ _C’mon_ , Shane.”

“Aw, don’t you worry darlin’. I’ll take care of ya,” Shane drawled thickly, earning an offended glare from the archer flushed and panting on the bed. Shane rolled over to the bedside table and rifled through the drawer, grinning lewdly when he found more than he bargained for. “Well, shit. Rick’s folks are kinkier than I woulda thought.”

“Wha’?” Daryl rasped curiosly, out of eye-shot.

“Just hold tight a sec,” Shane called behind him, darting into the bathroom and returning with a triumphant grin several moments later. Daryl could see well enough that he had something hidden behind his back.

“Shane...” he ground out in his best resemblance of a warning.

“Got a surprise for you,” Shane announced with a grin. “But I gotta get you warmed up first.” And when Daryl looked anything but enthused by the idea, “Hey, I won’t do nothin’ ya say no to, remember? But you’re gonna like it. Christ, you’ll fuckin’ _love_ it. Just trust me.”

When Daryl gave him a slight nod, Shane pulled the smaller boy to the edge of the bed, knelt in front of him, and swiftly swallowed down his leaking cock as far as it would go.

“Fuck, _Shane!_ ” Daryl cried out, throwing his head back and arching up off the bed. He heard the familiar click of a cap being flicked open, and a moment later, felt Shane’s slick finger swirl teasingly around his entrance. Daryl bore down against him desperately, feet scrabbling for leverage against Shane’s back.

Shane moaned around Daryl’s throbbing member, and just as Daryl tipped his head back to let out another strangled groan, Shane slipped his finger inside. The older boy seemed to find that magic spot instantly, and began to massage it steadily. When Daryl was panting out his name with every other breath, cock twitching dangerously inside Shane’s mouth, Shane pressed in a second finger.

Daryl’s cock was pulsing hard, precum oozing out onto the back of Shane’s tongue. So Shane popped off of the boy’s swollen length, slowed down his fingers just enough that Daryl’s hips bucked at the loss of friction.

“Shane, please.”

“I’ll get you there, man. Don’t worry. But how’s about that surprise now, huh? Found a vibrator in their nightstand. I want to use it on you.”

Daryl propped himself up on an elbow to look at Shane properly, and his eyes immediately set on the black, phallic-shaped device laying discreetly to their left.

“S’bigger than your fingers,” Daryl muttered.

“Not by as much as you think,” Shane tried, “And it’ll feel so fuckin’ good, Daryl. Just lemme show you.”

“You’ll stop...if it’s too much?” Daryl asked in a half-whisper.

“’Course I will,” Shane replied sincerely. And when Daryl laid back against the bed complacently, Shane grabbed the vibrator with his free hand and flicked on the switch. He ran the tip slowly over Daryl’s erection, from root to shiny head, making his length twitch and jerk at the sensation. Shane ran the vibrator over Daryl’s nuts, watching them dance while his finger never ceased working Daryl’s prostate.

One-handed, Shane managed to switch off the vibrator and lube it up. Daryl tensed up taught as the strings of his bow when he felt the plastic tip against his most intimate part, but Shane kept mouthing up and down his thighs, free hand loosely stroking him. Shane slipped the vibrator inside, and though there was a slight burn, it wasn’t nearly as bad as Daryl had imagined.

The younger boy was about to ask what the big deal had been, because the toy wasn’t _nearly_ as good as Shane’s fingers. But then Shane flicked the little switch at the bottom of the vibrator, and Daryl’s back bowed up off the bed.

“Fuck, oh fuck,” he panted.

“Yeah? That good?”

“ _Shane_ it’s...fuck... ain’t gonna last,” Daryl moaned.

“Yeah, you fuckin’ like that, don’t you? Can see it from the way your cock’s jumpin’ around, leakin’ all over your belly. You got any idea how fuckin’ hot that is? Jesus, Daryl...” Shane clambered back up Daryl’s body to kiss him, letting the vibrator continue to trill away inside.

He ground his hips into Daryl’s, stroking their cocks together as they kissed. And Daryl clawed desperately at Shane’s back, pulling him closer and shivering from head to toe. Shane’s hips picked up speed, fucking into Daryl’s warm, damp skin as he swallowing the boy’s whimpering moans.

“Shane! Shane, god...” Daryl sobbed into his shoulder.

“Fuck, yeah, I’m so close man. You got me so close.”

“Shane, I can’t, I _can’t_ , oh fuck...” And abruptly, Daryl froze against him, body going rigid before he was coming between them, shooting thick ropes of white across both of their stomachs while every muscle in his body spasmed and twitched with the rough wave of pleasure. Watching Daryl come apart at the seams was enough to send Shane barreling over the edge as well, and he bucked into Daryl’s body as he came hard enough to see stars.

Even in his blissed-out haze, Shane had enough sense to flick off the vibrator before pleasure turned to pain.

“That was...” Shane murmured after several minutes of crushing Daryl with his weight, “fuck.” He rolled onto his side and carefully retrieved the vibrator before trotting off into the bathroom. And Daryl lay breathless and boneless until Shane returned with a damp cloth and carefully cleaned him off. All the while, Daryl watched him lazily, with one arm crooked under his head.

“M’drunk,” Daryl mumbled when Shane slid into bed next to him.

“Yeah, me too man,” Shane agreed with a laugh, but then his expression sobered a degree and he looked Daryl in the eye. “You regrettin’ that?”

“Nah, s’just...can’t drive. I’ll fuckin’ crash,” Daryl murmured sleepily.

Shane relaxed at that, flicking off the lamp before pulling Daryl’s warm body against his. “S’alright, man. We ain’t goin’ no where. Just sleep.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Man, I've just been having all the Sharyl feels this week. I hope y'all like this chapter!

Shane woke up, rather unsurprisingly, with a pounding headache. Slightly more shocking was the warm weight of none other than Daryl Dixon draped over his body, and snoring contentedly.

It took some doing to slide out from underneath the smaller boy’s body without rousing him. But after tucking the blanket up around Daryl’s neck and confirming that he was still fast asleep, Shane tread quietly downstairs.

The house was wrecked, but at the very least, any lingering guests had managed to find their way home overnight.

“You’re up early,” Shane commented, finding Rick in the kitchen. He was struggling with the coffee machine, and visibly jumped when Shane’s voice echoed from behind him.

“Not so loud!” Rick whispered harshly, then gave him a shrill smile.

“Alright, alright,” Shane said under his breath, “Ya want some help with that?”

Rick nodded gratefully, and moved to sit at the table while Shane somehow managed to get the aging contraption working. After several minutes of intense concentration, Shane strode over and proudly handed him a mug of coffee, black. He sat with his own beverage, across from Rick, and they both drank in silence.

Rick’s eyes darted perpetually between his lap and Shane’s face, until Shane finally slammed down his mug with a degree greater force than he intended, and stared his friend down.

“ _What?_ ” Shane growled. “Spit it out, Grimes.”

“You know…ya know my room shares a wall with my folks’ room, right?” Rick eventually said quietly.

Shane let out a ragged sigh and scrubbed a hand over his face.

“Did Lori hear?”

“Nah, she was sleepin’. Passed out is more like it. I was too, but then I got up to take a piss. And well…” Rick carefully set down his coffee on the table, struggling for words. “Ya coulda told me.”

“I would have…eventually. S’pretty recent, with him.”

“Yeah, but I mean, it sounded like- sounded like ya knew what you were doin’-“

“There hasn’t been anyone else, if that’s what you’re gettin’ at. Just girls. But you know me: I’m a natural talent.”

Rick snorted, “Suppose that’s true. But uh…are you sure you know what you’re doin’ here?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, the last couple years, I’ve never seen you stay with a girl for more than a couple of weeks. But Daryl doesn’t seem like the type of guy to fuck around just for the hell of it.”

“You’re sayin’ I’m using him,” Shane accused.

“I’m sayin’ you ought to be careful. How do you think he’s gonna react when he finds out he’s just another notch on the bedpost for you? Think he’s gonna take it well? If he doesn’t kill you, he could end up dead himself. Daryl ain’t the type of guy you should be screwing around with.”

“I’m not--!”

“Oh, come on Shane,” Rick interjected, “Been friends with you as long as I can remember. And we both know that when it comes to sex, it’s all a game for you. A competition to see how long it takes for you to wear a girl down and get into her pants. And I get that Daryl bein’…how he is…probably made it better, right? But m’askin’ you, what happens when he figures it out?”

“There ain’t nothin’ to figure out, _Rick_ ,” Shane growled. “Is that really all ya think of me?”

“I’m worried, alright? I can’t pretend I’m not. If not for your sake, for _his._ ”

“Man, ya don’t get it.”

“Then explain it to me,” Rick beseeched him.

“For fuck’s sake, Grimes. Things with Daryl…me and him…Jesus, did ya ever think that the reason I didn’t stick with any of those girls might have been ‘cuz they weren’t what I wanted?”

Rick stared at him blankly for a beat, “So you’re uh…gay?”

“No! More like, flexible I guess. What I’m sayin’ is, sometimes it’s just about sex, and sometimes it ain’t. Just ‘cuz it hasn’t happened for me before, doesn’t mean I’m not _capable_ , or whatever. You’re talkin’ like I’m some lost cause.”

“You know that’s not what I think,” Rick said sincerely, “And I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions. I guess I just didn’t expect…it doesn’t matter, really. If it’s what you want, then I’m good with it.”

Shane gazed at him skeptically, “Ya sure?”

“Of course, man. Nothing’s changed. Oughta be more careful though, if you’re worried about people findin’ out.”

Shane chuckled lowly, “Yeah, we weren’t thinkin’ too clearly, were we?”

Rick got up from the table and set his mug down in the sink. “Well, at least one of us is gettin’ some.”

At that, Shane relaxed into a full-on laugh. “Yeah, and it’s always me,” he agreed. “Hey, ya got some Asprin?”

TWDTWDTWDTWD

Shane set two mugs of coffee down on the nightstand, and sat down on the edge of the bed next to Daryl’s curled up form. He’d noticed, over the past few days, how Daryl always curled into himself when he slept alone. It pained him to see that even in sleep, Daryl’s instincts pushed him to make himself smaller, a less obvious target.

Running a hand through Daryl’s messy locks, Shane couldn’t help but feel a pang of hurt at the initial panic in the boy’s eyes when he woke with a start. But it was consolation enough when the sight of Shane at his side had Daryl relaxing into the bed with a sigh.

“What time’s it?” he rasped hoarsely.

“Not too late,” Shane replied. “Brought ya some coffee. And Asprin.”

Daryl gave him a small smile and sat up in bed, taking both offers gratefully.

“You feelin’ alright?”

“Just hungover.”

“Well, I figured that. How ‘bout the rest of you?”

“Which part?”

Shane shot him a devious smirk. “Here?” he asked, ghosting a hand over Daryl’s abdomen and grinning when taut muscles twitched from the slight caress.

“N-not. Not so bad,” Daryl stuttered.

“And what about here?” Shane whispered, daintily picking up Daryl’s injured hand and running his lips across the knuckles.

“S’healin’. I think.”

“How ‘bout here?” Shane asked him, trailing his fingertips from the crest of Daryl’s yellowing eye to the crook of his neck, then scratching gently at the sensitive skin.

“It’s…it’s…” Daryl muttered brokenly, watching Shane’s hand venture slowly down his body.

“And here?” Shane murmured, gently massaging the growing bulge hidden just under the covers, and relishing the look of helpless arousal Daryl shot him when he wrapped his fingers around the swollen length.

“Yeah, you’re doin’ much better,” Shane praised, stroking him loosely before dropping his hand from Daryl’s body altogether.

“Shane…” came the following whimper.

“I know, man. Gotta hold on ‘til we get back to yours, though. Rick’s got people comin’ over to clean, and I think you and me could use a bit more privacy.”

Daryl huffed out a breath in frustration and began to pull on his discarded outfit from the night before.

“Tease.”

TWDTWDTWDTWD

They walked through the front door, and Shane immediately began to shed clothing. His shoes were toed off and shoved into the corner. Then his shirt, pulled over his head and deposited on the floor. Then his jeans, which he skimmed out of and kicked towards Daryl’s room. It was only when he reached the door to the bathroom that he turned back around, not the least bit surprised to find Daryl trailing slowly behind him, fully clothed and looking uncertain.

“You’ll feel better once you’ve had a shower,” Shane told him, leading Daryl by his belt-loops into the bathroom.

The younger boy appeared skittish, for a moment. But then he began to slowly unbutton his shirt, and Shane helped by wrenching his jeans off of Daryl’s body. Shane herded Daryl into the shower, pulling them chest to chest under the spray and groaning when the hot water hit his tired body.

Daryl grabbed the soup and began to haphazardly run it over his body. And Shane took a step back and smiled at him knowingly.

“What?” Daryl spat, exasperated.

“Y’ain’t gonna make a show of it?” Shane asked innocently, and Daryl’s face lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Quit it, Shane,” he muttered, but his soapy hands slowed down incrementally.

“You’re takin’ all the art out of it,” Shane murmured, “If you’re not gonna do it properly, you oughta let me take over for you. Body like yours deserves someone who’ll take their time.”

Daryl froze under his gaze and shivered visibly. “Don’…don’t say stuff like that.”

“Why not? It’s the truth,” Shane said softly, slowly taking the soap from Daryl and lathering his hands. He gently grazed his slick fingers over Daryl’s torso, massaging his shoulders and carefully flicking his fingertips over the boy’s nipples until he trembled.

There was a sharp intake of breath as Shane went to his knees, and a gasp when dull fingernails traced the bundle of nerves on either hip, hot lips following their path. Daryl’s cock was standing straight and proud; bobbing every so often, when Shane’s ministrations became too much. But Shane ignored the object that demanded his attention, instead running soapy hands down each of Daryl’s legs, and massaging the sore muscles.

When he stood back up, Daryl was flushed all the way down to his chest, and struggling to control his breathing.

Shane watched him carefully before softly asking, “Turn around.”

It wasn’t hard to spot the immediate reluctance. It was clear in the way Daryl’s body went rigid and hard, face shutting down like a door slamming shut in Shane’s face.

So Shane moved forward until they were skin to skin, and ran his fingers up and down Daryl’s sides. “I want _all_ of you,” Shane told him. And after an indecisive pause, Daryl allowed the older boy to spin him around so that he was facing the wall.

Rather than immediately go to touch Daryl’s back, Shane pressed them fully together, and snaked his hands around to Daryl’s chest. He kissed and nipped along Daryl’s neck, murmuring into his ear, “That’s not so bad, is it?”

And when Daryl failed to respond, still holding himself far too still for Shane’s liking, the older boy moved to grasp his still-hard cock, stroking slowly with hands soapy and slick. Daryl’s head fell back with a moan, and Shane could feel the tension evaporating from him. With his free hand, he pinched at Daryl’s nipples, pet the smattering of hair across Daryl’s chest, and the younger boy couldn’t seem to keep his head off of Shane’s broad shoulder.

Before either of them realized it was happening, Shane’s hips were moving right along with Daryl’s. He ground himself slowly into the perfect mounds of Daryl’s ass, while the boy bucked into his fist, softly moaning with every movement. They were both panting harshly, slim hips picking up speed in desperation.

But then Shane’s hands dropped from Daryl’s body and he took a half-step back, pressing his forehead to the base of Daryl’s neck. “Not yet,” he panted, fighting for control.

With Daryl still huffing with want, Shane began to clean the boy’s scarred back. They could both feel how his trembling worsened each time Shane grazed over an old scar, but Daryl didn’t try to escape, and Shane did not relent. The younger Dixon managed to tolerate the touch, understanding that it was necessary. But he couldn’t hide his sigh of relief when Shane’s hands continued further south to knead at his glutes.

“C’mon,” Shane said, “Water’s getting cold.”

He pushed Daryl in front of him into the bedroom, kicking the door shut hastily. Shane came up behind Daryl before the younger boy had a chance to turn, wrapping his arms around him reassuringly and rubbing his nose against his neck.

“Tell me what you want,” Shane rumbled, then gasped in surprise when Daryl broke his hold and forced him onto the bed. He met Daryl’s eyes, and found a hesitant fire there. Dominance desperate to be unleashed. So Shane placed his hands complacently behind his back, propping himself up on the bed and giving Daryl free reign over his body.

“Stay still,” Daryl growled, and Shane nodded quickly, swallowing the lump in his throat. He’d never been ordered around in bed before. Not once, aside from that fleeting moment with Daryl a few days before. But this was different, so deliberate. And Shane could feel the way his cock was twitching and leaking in anticipation.

Daryl pushed at his shoulder until Shane fell to his elbows, and stood between the jock’s splayed legs. “Still,” Daryl reminded him with a sharp look, before taking Shane’s length in hand without the least bit of hesitation.

Daryl stroked him loosely, and Shane had to fight not to buck up into the teasing grasp. Instead, he groaned out his frustration, moaning anew when Daryl’s free hand went to his balls, rolling and fondling them with an air of fascination.

Shane lay frozen as Daryl explored his body, curiously running his calloused hands over every inch of skin he could reach. And Shane took it all, fisting his hands into the sheets and panting harshly, but never once moving to touch Daryl in return.

All at once, Shane was being pulled to his feet and Daryl’s mouth was melded to his. Shane pushed him back into the dresser and thrust his tongue into the younger boy’s mouth, just as Daryl’s free hand went fumbling for the lube. He shoved it into Shane’s hand and made to head back towards the bed, but Shane pinned him where he was, spinning Daryl around so they both faced the mirror and mouthing at the back of his neck.

“I want you like this,” Shane growled, “I want you to see. Fuck, say yes.”

And as soon as Daryl gave that slight nod of consent, Shane’s slick fingers were swirling at his entrance, then slipping inside as his free hand encompassed Daryl’s cock.

“Fuck, _fuck_ ,” Daryl panted, once Shane managed to find that little bundle of nerves they both were so fond of. He ground himself into Daryl’s damp body, and the boy responded in full, catching on to Shane’s rhythm and groaning loudly.

Each twist of Shane’s wrist had Daryl leaking onto his hand. And the relentless massage of his fingers had the younger boy bucking backwards into Shane’s body, making them both moan at the added friction.

Shane caught Daryl’s eye in the mirror, and rewarded him with a particularly hard thrust of his fingers. He memorized the look on Daryl’s face in that moment, the way his lips formed a perfect ring, and his eyebrows shot up in blissful surprise. “ _Shane._ ”

“That’s it, Daryl. You’re so good,” Shane groaned. Their pace picked up and both of them were panting harshly. “You like that? C’mon, tell me you want it, tell me…”

“Shane, fuck, fuck,” Daryl panted, bucking back to meet Shane’s fingers, then forward to fuck into his fist. “Harder. Do it harder.”

Shane groaned deep in his chest and gnawed at Daryl’s shoulder. “Yeah? You want it harder? That what you want?” He twisted his palm rapidly over the head, and Daryl’s body arched and shook.

“Shane, _please_!”

“Christ, Daryl. You’re so fuckin’ hot,” Shane muttered as he released his grip on the boy’s cock to snake a hand up and across Daryl’s chest and grasp him by the opposite shoulder. With his newfound hold on Daryl’s body, Shane began to thrust his fingers hard and fast.

“Fuck, fuckin’ hell, _aw_ fuck,” Daryl moaned. Shane’s hips were moving at rapid speed against him, and each movement had the dresser shaking and creaking. The older boy kicked at the inside of Daryl’s leg, forcing him to spread himself wider and give Shane better access.

“You close, Daryl?” Shane murmured in his ear, and the boy shivered violently, panting open-mouthed and watching Shane watch him through the mirror. Shane wasn’t paying his cock any mind, and Daryl knew that if he tried to spare a hand for the cause he’d lose his balance, but it was clearer with every thrust that he was going to come regardless.

“Yeah,” Daryl moaned, “Fuck, I’m gonna- I think I’m gonna-“

“That’s it, that’s it. Fuck, Daryl _._ ”

“Oh, God. Fuck, I… _fuck_!”

And with that, Daryl cock erupted untouched, streaking the dresser with white as he shuddered and moaned. He could feel the splash of wet warmth at his back when Shane followed him soon after, groaning _his_ name into the space between his shoulder blades.

Daryl was shaking all over. And just as his legs began to give way, two strong arms wrapped around him from behind, and corralled him over to the bed, where they both collapsed contentedly.

They dozed, for some time. And the sun was low in the sky when the slam of a truck door startled Daryl awake, and immediately onto his feet.

Suddenly, the younger Dixon was pulling on clothing faster than his hands could manage, and throwing Shane’s clothes at the bed. “Shane, get dressed! Now!”

“Daryl, what’s wrong?” Shane asked slowly, buttoning his jeans and going for his shirt next.

“You need to get out of here,” Daryl said, expressionless.

“Man, what are you talkin’ about? I’m not going anywhere.”

“Yes you fucking are, Shane. I don’t want you here,” Daryl growled. He was fumbling through the house, tidying as he went and flipping off lights, with Shane on his tail.

“Daryl, what’s-?”

“What the hell don’t you understand about it, Shane!? Huh? I don’t want you! I’m real glad you had fun gettin’ me off all weekend, but I’m better now, and I’m tellin’ you to fucking _go_ ,”Daryl spat, spinning around to face him.

“Daryl, what are you _doing_?”

“I swear to god, Shane. If you don’t get out of here right fucking now, come tomorrow, everyone at school’s gonna know ya like suckin’ cock in your spare time. _This_ ,” Daryl snarled, motioning between the two of them, “It meant _nothing_. I fuckin’ used you s’what I did. And now I want you gone. So just fuckin’ go, already!”

Somehow, Shane found himself standing at the back door, and Daryl shoved his keys into his hand. But still, he hesitated, watching Daryl closely.

“What the fuck are you waitin’ for?” Daryl shouted, getting in his face. “Y’ain’t wanted here. Just go!”

The front door slammed, and that’s when Shane saw the flutter of panic behind Daryl’s eyes, hidden beneath the veil of anger and disgust. It was brief, but it was there. And then, Shane understood just who had arrived at the Dixon household moments ago.

“Fuck that, Daryl. I’m not leavin’ you with him—“

There was the thud of impact, then the sting, and then the sharp stab of pain from the already-injured side of Shane’s face. One hand went to his eye in shock. Shane didn’t much remember Daryl pulling back to draw, but the punch didn’t hurt nearly as much as the vacant expression on Daryl’s face. Before he could gather himself, Daryl had shoved him through the door and out into the cold.

“Fuck off, Shane,” Daryl growled, slamming the door shut in his face.

Numbly, Shane ambled over to his car and sat down behind the wheel. His key turned in the ignition, and he began to back out of the driveway. Over the rumble of the engine, Shane thought he heard a crash from inside, followed by a scream.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Shane sat in his first period class with Rick by his side and glared at the door. He’d hardly slept the night before; not after finding the will to continue rolling down Daryl’s drive way and getting his exhausted body home. Shane replayed the scene over and over in his mind, until the first rays of light were peeking through his shades. Daryl’s terrified expression when the front door slammed. The anger, mingled with panic, that flashed across his face before he finally lashed out.

If Shane was being honest with himself, he was lucky that Daryl had hit him. It had left him just numb enough to overshadow his impulsive, possessive streak. Too dazed to storm back into that house to take on Will Dixon himself, and undoubtedly make things worse. Because there’d be no hiding it, then. Once Daryl’s father saw what Shane would do to protect his youngest son, he’d _know._ And if he didn’t succeed in killing Daryl for it, he’d certainly try.

Either way, it was best that Shane had lethargically made his way home, even if images of what Daryl might be enduring kept him awake long past the point of normality. It was for the best, he kept telling himself. It had to be. Except Shane knew now that there had been no best circumstance for Daryl last night. He knew it, even while he told himself otherwise. Because Shane was still glaring at the door angrily, worriedly, tapping his foot on the ground and his pen on the desk and fighting not to get up and leave.

Daryl was late for class.

_Why wouldn’t he just listen to me? Why wouldn’t he let me help him? Why--?_

The door slammed open, prompting all but Shane to startle, and in strode a carefully indifferent Daryl Dixon.

“Dixon, you’re late,” their teacher sighed, and Daryl gave her a halfhearted shrug. Shane didn’t miss the way that small movement had Daryl struggling not to wince.

“Sorry,” Daryl muttered, making his way to his seat. He barely concealed his limp.

Shane stared him down. And Daryl stared down at his desk.

It was forty minutes of torture, barely registering their teacher droning on about Charles Dickens before Daryl was bolting upright at the bell, first out of the classroom. Shane was soon after, following him down the hall and around the corner as students began to stream out and into his path. From up ahead, Shane saw Daryl dart into one of the bathrooms. It was out of the way from any of the classrooms, a place most kids went to hook up or get high. He smirked to himself at the sick sense of irony.

Shane burst through the door and did a quick scan. It was just him, and a frightened-looking Daryl. He let the door shut behind them.

“Seriously? You’re hiding from me now?” were the first words out of Shane’s mouth, and he instantly regretted how accusatory they sounded, even to his own ears. But goddamn it, he was _pissed_ , and having to chase this dumbass through the halls hadn’t helped things one bit.

“Fuck off, Shane. Just leave me alone,” Daryl growled, moving to push past Shane and get to the door. But the larger boy shoved him back, an ounce too roughly, sending Daryl reeling into the sink with a sharp gasp of pain.

“We ain’t finished,” Shane snarled, and Daryl scowled at him.

“Yeah. We _are_ ,” Daryl hissed. “Nurse says I’m better now. So you and me? We’ve got no reason to be spendin’ time together. You don’t owe me nothin’, alright? Shit can go back to the way it was.”

“You don’t want that,” Shane said, with a hint of doubt in his voice, and Daryl hinged onto it.

“Quit putting words in my fucking mouth, Shane! I’m done with you. We’re _done._ ”

Shane regarded him solemnly for a moment, then took a small step towards him, eyes glimmering dangerously. “No, we’re not.”

He watched recognition dash across Daryl’s features, crumbling his angry front. “Shane…”

The moment of hesitation was enough of an opening for Shane to grab Daryl by his shoulders and shove him into the closest stall, locking the door behind him. Daryl was immediately panicked, scratching at Shane and trying for the door, but Shane pinned him by his arms and pressing the lower halves of their bodies together.

“Just kiss me, Daryl. It’s okay,” Shane crooned, and snarled when the younger boy very nearly head-butted him in response.

“Stop it,” Shane barked sharply, “You want this. You want this, Daryl. Don’t tell me you don’t.” His babbling self-talk bordered on manic, and Daryl found himself struggling to breathe.

Realizing that he didn’t have the strength to overpower Shane, Daryl slumped in his grasp, breathing shallow and rapid when he finally looked Shane in the eye.

“Don’t do this,” Daryl whispered, _pleaded_ with him. “Please, Shane.”

And for all the times Daryl had begged him before, this made Shane’s stomach cramp with the need to vomit. He let go of Daryl abruptly, panting a little himself and leaning against the opposite wall.

“Don’t do _what_?” Shane questioned disbelievingly. “What’s ‘this’, huh? What are you so sure I’m gonna do?”

Daryl’s hand moved cautiously towards the lock again, but Shane slapped it away.

“No.” Shane ground the word out, with less fire than before, but just as much determination. “Take your shirt off.”

Daryl’s eyes locked on his, wide with fear. He said nothing, and remained frozen.

“I’m just like _him_ , right? That’s what you’re saying? That’s what you’re thinking? Then go on, show me what he did. _Show me_.” Daryl made no move to comply, so instead Shane pinned him again with an arm across his chest, and unbuttoned his shirt one-handed, ripping it open despite Daryl’s protests.

Daryl didn’t bother hiding himself, once all was said and done. He wilted a little against the wall, winded, and glared off to the side and down at the floor. His hands were balled into fists, as if he was waiting for the hits to start coming.

What he didn’t expect was for Shane to let out a sound close to a whimper, eyes abandoning Daryl’s battered torso to seek out the boy’s eyes.

“Daryl,” Shane said softly, moving at the same time to cup the younger boy’s cheek. Daryl flinched away out of instinct, and Shane pressed a hand to his shoulder instead, rubbing slowly. “I won’t hurt you. Remember?”

“Y’already did,” Daryl muttered, the first words he’d managed in some time.

Shane nodded contritely. “Look at me,” he demanded gently. Blue orbs snapped up to greet him, and he nearly smiled. “ _I’m sorry._ ”

At his words, Daryl let out a deep sigh, and some of the tension in his body seemed to dissipate. So Shane let his hand migrate up to Daryl’s neck, rubbing slow circles and trying to communicate with his actions what he couldn’t seem to get right when he opened his damn mouth.

“Daryl…” Shane began, mouth dry, “You can’t stay there anymore. Look, we can call the cops, a social worker—“

“You think I haven’t tried that before? You think no one ever called the cops on him, back before he learned where to hit me so it wouldn’t show?” Daryl hissed, “Whatever my Dad... _does_...those homes are worse. I’ve just got to ride it out, ‘til I’m 18...”

“You think it’ll end then? You think he’ll ever just let you go?” Shane questioned desperately.

“Tell me, then! Tell me what to fucking do! You want me to put my only living parent in jail then get stuck in one of those homes where they’ll either rape me, or beat me, or both? That what you want?!”

Shane’s eyes went wide. “Jesus, Daryl. Is that what—?”

“No! But only ‘cuz Merle got me out of there before it could happen. Those places ain’t safe, Shane.”

Shane paused a moment, sucking in a deep, steadying breath. When he opened his mouth next, he watched Daryl closely. “And being around your Dad is?”

The look of pained understanding in Daryl’s eyes was impossible to miss.

“He’s...I can handle him,” the younger boy tried to justify.

“Yeah, it sure looks like you’re handling him,” Shane scoffed.

“I can _take it,_ ” Daryl insisted, and Shane moved his other hand to Daryl’s shoulder, wanting as much contact with him as the boy would tolerate.

“Daryl... don’t you get it? I don’t want you to have to _take it_. You don’t deserve this, any of it. You don’t deserve to get beat up by your own fucking father, whose supposed to _protect_ you. You don’t—”

“So...” Daryl cut him off, leaning his head just slightly into Shane’s still-stroking hand. “So make it…better,” Daryl shakily finished. His face was flushed pink with embarrassment at what he’d just let slip, but Shane only moved in closer, stroking him gently and reassuring him with his body.

Daryl wasn’t even sure why he put it like that, but the more concern Shane showed for him, the more Daryl just wanted him to _stop_. Shane was pressed against him now, running his fingertips up and down his side, and Daryl couldn’t help but moan in relief. _This_ was something he understood. All those words, but this was so much easier for him to tolerate. He tilted his head up towards Shane invitingly, and the older boy took the chance to cautiously meld their lips together.

Even with Daryl hard and pushed up against him, Shane was being so careful about everything. His lips migrated from Daryl’s mouth down to his neck, then suckled gently at his collar bone. It was not enough, and too much. And Daryl might have cried out his frustration at the entire situation, but he knew that could only end in more talking, and he wasn’t about to let that happen. So Daryl let Shane make his way slowly down his chest, watching his face for the smallest sign of discomfort.

Shane took a nipple into his mouth, sucked hard, then soft, and bit lightly at the reddened bud. Daryl hissed and arched up off the wall, pleading with his body, rather than his traitorous tongue. And Shane rewarded him by slowly massaging the bulge in his jeans, then paying the same attention to the opposite nipple. He kissed languidly down Daryl’s sternum, until the younger boy was panting roughly up towards the ceiling. Daryl’s head was tilted back, as if watching what Shane was doing to him, and feeling it all at once, was just too much to bear.

But then Shane’s lips met the first of Daryl’s bruises, and every muscle seized up in fear.

“Shh,” Shane tried to soothe him, “Won’t hurt you.”

Shane knelt in front of him, head even with Daryl’s belly button, and pressed a feather-light kiss to a particularly ugly gash. The area around it was all purple and red, and the wound itself was hardly healed enough to keep from bleeding, but Shane kissed it all the same. And when no pain followed, Daryl couldn’t help the deep sigh of relief that left him in a groaning rush.

Daryl couldn’t understand why Shane even _wanted_ to touch him at the moment, marked up as he was. Dried blood was still streaked over various patches of blotchy skin, but Shane’s lips never stopped, caressing every inch of his beaten body without the slightest hint of disgust.

_It should hurt_ , something deep in Daryl’s mind reminded him eagerly. And it _should_ have hurt; it always had before. But every fluttering touch felt better than the last, to the point where Shane’s hands had wandered possessively to Daryl’s hips, keeping him standing when his legs began to shake.

“Shane, please…” Daryl murmured, trying to keep his voice from trembling along with his body. He didn’t succeed, and Shane’s eyes shot up to his, questioning. But how could Daryl explain that even without Shane’s hands touching him where he _thought_ he needed it the most, his body was caving towards bright, hot release. He couldn’t make the words come, or even express it in his own mind. Not when the gentle way Shane was touching him and the affection in his eyes had Daryl fighting back tears. He blinked rapidly, hoping to god that Shane hadn’t seen.

“It’s okay,” Shane said, and Daryl’s cheeks burned for a moment of paralyzing fear, before Shane followed with, “I’ve got you. Just gotta be quiet.”

Daryl nodded, and gnawed at his lower lip. He watched Shane easily unzip his fly, pulling Daryl’s length to his mouth before the younger boy had realized just where this was going.

Wet heat surrounded him, and Daryl moaned through his teeth. “Oh fuck, Shane.”

The older boy was wasting no time, building a steady rhythm and following his mouth’s movements with one hand, while the other went to roll and cup Daryl’s balls.

“I’m not gonna…I can’t…” Daryl moaned, fisting his hands into Shane’s hair.

Shane moved to palm Daryl’s ass, encouraging him to buck forwards and meet Shane’s motions. Daryl’s whole body was on fire. A bright ball of pleasure overshadowing every ounce of pain, dull and searing alike.

“So close, fuck I’m so close,” Daryl groaned. He watched his glistening cock disappear into Shane’s mouth, and moaned again when Shane’s eyes darted up to his, dark with arousal. The fact that it was _Shane_ doing this to him made it so much better. On his knees in a goddamn bathroom stall with Daryl’s cock in his mouth because he wanted to.

Shane wanted _him._

Shane _wanted_ him.

For the first time, those words truly hit home. Daryl’s body tensed taut as wire, and in that moment he was gone.

Shane growled possessively around his length, and Daryl cried out far louder than he should have when his orgasm hit. His hips thrust forward of their own accord, and Daryl lost his footing. One hand slammed into the opposite wall, and the other held Shane steady as he came hard down the older boy’s throat, trying and failing at stifling his groans.

He was still shaking from head to toe when Shane tucked him away and went to stand, maneuvering him so he was leaning against the wall again.

Shane smirked at him, “That good, huh?”

“Shut up,” Daryl huffed, but he cracked a grateful smile. “You didn’t…you want me to…?”

“Nah, I’m good,” Shane said, and a light went off in Daryl’s mind.

“Ya know, normal people just apologize,” Daryl said, but he was still smiling, and Shane grinned right back.

“Yeah, well, I tried that. But you didn’t seem to believe me,” Shane bit back playfully.

A bell rang from out in the hallway, and Daryl snorted out a laugh. “Guess we skipped P.E.”

Shane cocked an eyebrow at him, “I don’t know about that. Think the two of us worked up a real sweat.”

“Stop,” Daryl deadpanned. He haphazardly buttoned his shirt and jeans, and shouldered his backpack. His hair was sticking up in all the wrong places, and he was out the door before Shane could move to stop him. He hastily followed Daryl out into the hallway.

Just behind him, and in a low enough voice that only Daryl would hear, Shane whispered, “Just so ya know, ya look thoroughly fucked.”

Daryl stopped in his tracks, pawing frantically at his hair. Shane heard him curse under his breath when he realized that his shirt was done up wrong too. He continued by, chuckling to himself, and leaving Daryl to handle the clean-up.


	7. Chapter 7

Daryl was tempted to shoot himself in the foot when he was paired up with Rick for lab. He’d known as soon as Grimes looked at him that the bastard knew. He had to, from the way he smirked as Daryl trudged over to their shared desk.

“Let’s just get on with it, then,” Daryl muttered as he sat down, glowering in return. He let Rick take the lead, mixing various chemicals together and noting the reactions. Chemistry hardly ever held Daryl’s attention, and today was no different. He was a hands-on type of guy, and following the directions on a page didn’t sit too well with him.

It was hardly five minutes before Rick just couldn’t contain himself.

“Saw ya limpin’, when you came into class this morning,” Rick said conversationally.

“Yup,” Daryl responded, offering no elaboration whatsoever.

“You and Shane get in another fight?” Rick tried.

“No.”

“Right, I thought maybe ya might have.”

“We didn’t.”

“Well then what--?”

“Can you mind your own damn business, Grimes?” Daryl growled, cutting him off.

Rick’s eyes widened in shock. “Yeah, sorry. Sorry.”

They dissolved into tense silence.

Abruptly, Rick slammed down a beaker with far too much force, the sharp crack echoing throughout the classroom and causing a dozen heads to swivel back to look at them.

“What the _fuck_ Grimes?” Daryl immediately hissed under his breath. The rest of the class turned back towards the board.

“Daryl, Shane didn’t…you’d _tell me_ if he…Christ! Shane didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“For fuck’s sake, I just told you. _No._ ”

“Not in a fight. I mean the two of you…did he hurt you when he…Jesus, alright, _I know about you guys,_ okay _?_ ” Rick whispered.

Daryl’s cheeks lit up brighter than a Christmas tree. “Keep you’re fuckin’ voice down, Grimes,” Daryl snarled. They were speaking to each other so softly already that they had to struggle to listen, but Daryl wasn’t willing to take any chances.

“Look, Shane told me, okay? Kind of…overheard you two the night of the party. And I’m fine with it, really. But if Shane’s hurting you, you’ve got to tell me, alright? We can figure it out.”

Daryl’s hands curled into fists under the table. He tapped his heel roughly against the ground, trying to materialize his frustration. “I already _told_ you, Grimes. Shane didn’t do it. He ain’t like that. Now are you gonna drop this or are we gonna have to go outside and work this thing out?”

Rick noticeably stiffened in his chair, turning his body minutely away from Daryl.

“Sorry,” Rick whispered, after a brief silence.

“Rick…”

“I really am fine with you two. It’s just I know how he can be. And the two of you had been at each other’s throats up until recently; you can understand why it’d be an adjustment.”

“I swear to God…”

“And I mean, it was _kind of_ a surprise. Seeing as he likes to call himself the king of pussy, and you’re…you. And I guess I figured that if he swung like that, it’d be _me_ he’d go after.”

There was a sharp intake of breath from his left, and when Rick looked over to Daryl, he saw that the boy was shaking noticeably, hands balled into fists under the desk. _He’s jealous_ , Rick realized quite suddenly.

“I’m kidding!” Rick quickly assured him, trying to mend the situation. “I was just kidding, I swear…”

“Do me a favor, Grimes, and stop fuckin’ talking,” Daryl muttered.

“Shane’s not my type, anyways,” Rick said with a smirk.

“Jesus Christ…”

“But hey,” Rick grasped Daryl by the shoulder, snatching his hand back when Daryl tensed like he’d been struck then shot him a death glare.

“Listen,” he tried again, with Daryl’s full attention. “I get why you don’t want anyone to know about it. It’s none of their business; and I’m not going to tell anyone, okay? I promise you that. But if you ever need to talk, I’m here to listen. And I know you probably want to tell me to fuck off again, but I’m serious Daryl. Sometimes you need to talk something out to make sense of it in your head. Don’t think that just because what you two have is… _private_ , that you can’t ever talk about it. You’re allowed to. And you’ll probably need to, eventually. Hell, I’ve talked Shane’s ear off about Lori more times than I can count, and me and her ain’t hiding nothing. All I’m saying here is you can come to me with it.”

“Alright, alright,” Daryl mumbled with a sigh. “I get it. And I will…if it comes to that.” He looked Rick in the eye. “Thanks.”

Rick shot him a smile, “No problem.” He turned back towards the desk. “Now correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think this shit was supposed to turn blue.”

Daryl snorted unwittingly, and cracked an easy grin. “Don’t look at me, man.”

TWDTWDTWDTWD

When Daryl traipsed gratefully out of school at the last bell, he found Shane leaning up against his truck. _Again._

“Haven’t ya learned your damn lesson?” Daryl drawled, throwing his backpack into the truck bed, but his tone was teasing.

“Apparently not,” Shane replied smugly.

“Well, s’there any particular reason you’re muckin’ up my truck, then?”

Shane didn’t answer right away, prompting Daryl to turn back around and look him in the eye.

“You eat yet today?” Shane asked him, and got his answer when Daryl’s eyes darted right to the ground.

“Well alright then,” Shane said in an easy tone, pulling Daryl back from the brink of overwhelming embarrassment, “How about the two of us head back to my place then?”

“Shane, ya don’t gotta…”

“Thing is, Rick drove me to school today,” Shane said, cutting him off, “So I need the ride anyways. Figure a meal’s the least I can do, for you drivin’ out of your way and all.”

It was a blatant lie, but Shane said it with just enough conviction. Daryl bit at his lip, and then nodded curtly. “Yeah, alright. Get in.”

Shane shot him a victorious grin and jumped into the passenger side, nearly impaling himself on an arrow.

“Shit!” he cursed, pulling it out from under him. Daryl’s crossbow was propped in between them. “You always keep that bow on ya?” Shane asked, as they drove.

“Pretty much,” Daryl replied. He frowned a little at Shane’s question, as if the answer was so obvious it didn’t merit a response.

“Who taught you?”

“Merle, mostly,” Daryl said, “Soon as I was big enough to hold it up properly.”

“How old was that?”

“Eight or nine, I guess. With some help, back then. Not after a couple years.” Daryl’s eyes shot nervously over to Shane, and found the older boy watching him closely. “What?” he spat, uncomfortable with the attention.

“Nothing,” Shane immediately said, “I’m just…tryin’ to picture what you’d be like, if things were different.”

“What things?”

“Your family. I mean if you and me swapped places, back when we were kids, I wonder if I’d be able to take care of myself as well as you do. If you’d be a jock. That sort of thing.”

“Ain’t no sense in wondering,” Daryl said quietly, “Things are the way they are.”

Shane’s chest tightened painfully, and he could see from the way that Daryl was holding himself that he didn’t want the conversation to continue. The jock plastered on a smile, determined to lighten the mood.“Guess so. Hard to imagine I’d be any good with a bow.”

Daryl snorted a laugh, visibly relaxing. “Judgin’ by the one time I let ya come huntin’ with me, I’d say no. Probably shoot yourself in the ass and scare away all the game in Georgia.”

“Hey now, I wasn’t that bad. Saved _your_ ass, didn’t I?” Shane teased.

“That ain’t how I remember it,” Daryl replied, trying to hide his grin.

“Oh, really?” Shane laughed. “And how do you remember it, then?”

“All I did was go for a swim. And seein’ me all wet got ya so damn hot, ya near dragged me home. Begged me the whole way to get my clothes off. Ain’t my fault you’re such a perv.”

They pulled up in front of Shane’s house. “Yeah well, why don’t’ ya get that firm little ass of yours inside, and I can show ya how pervy I am.”

Daryl blushed plainly, and hopped hastily out of the cab with Shane close on his tail. Once Shane had unlocked the door, Daryl wandered inside. He hadn’t been to Shane’s house since he was a kid, just once after Shane had moved to a different neighborhood. But he remembered the layout alright, and managed to make his way successfully to Shane’s room.

He threw his backpack to the ground and sat down gingerly on Shane’s bed, still mindful of his injuries. Daryl looked up through his bangs at Shane. “So what’d you wanna-?”

Shane cut him off with a kiss. It wasn’t as hungry as Daryl expected. None of that heat and desperation he’d fallen victim in the weekend they’d spent together. Instead, Shane kissed him slowly. Tenderly. Careful to bookmark every small sigh and slight expression from the younger boy, and on the constant lookout for any sign of discomfort.

“Ain’t gonna break,” Daryl huffed when Shane pressed their foreheads together.

“S’what you say,” Shane drawled, “But I ain’t takin’ any chances.”

“Don’t gotta baby me. M’fine,” Daryl carped, but there wasn’t much force behind it.

“Hey.” Shane demanded his attention, grasping him by the jaw. “ _Fuck that_. Ain’t gonna have you getting hurt worse ‘cuz of me.”

Daryl gave him a small nod of understanding, his features easing from their defiant mould.

“Seen your chest,” Shane mused, “What about the rest of you?”

Daryl scrunched up his nose in discomfort, then forced his body to relax, and let out a ragged sigh. “Was just my chest and my middle this time, mostly. Stomped on my knee pretty good, s’why I was limpin’.”

Shane’s jaw was tense, and Daryl could tell he was trying to hold back another outburst. “How ‘bout your back?” he instead questioned.

“S’fine,” Daryl mumbled.

“And the rest of you?”

“Rest of me’s fine. Like I said.”

Shane crouched in front of him, running a hand through his hair. “Alright, how ‘bout you let me give you a massage then?”

The suggestion clearly took Daryl by surprise. “You wanna…why? That doesn’t do nothin’ for ya.”

“Dixon, if you ain’t noticed yet that I get off on touchin’ you, then you ain’t been payin’ too good attention,” Shane said with a smirk.

He watched Daryl bite nervously at his lip. “And I bet you’ve never gotten one before….It’ll feel good, alright? I know what I’m doin’- had the guy who does PT for the team work on me a few times. Lemme do the same for you.”

Shane moved his hands to Daryl’s shirt, and watched his eyes for any sign of panic. When he saw none, he slowly undid the buttons, slipping the thin piece of fabric from Daryl’s body and revealing the gory mess beneath. He took Daryl by either elbow and gently pulled him to his feet.

“Let’s get these pants off too, yeah?”

Shane knelt in front of him, pulling off Daryl’s boots, and socks, then ridding him of the rest of his clothing. And Daryl watched him curiously the whole time, not entirely relaxed, but allowing Shane to do as he wished.

It was only once he was standing completely bare in front of an entirely clothed Shane that Daryl began to feel self-conscious. But the older boy gave him no time to put up a fuss, leading him back towards the bed and urging him to lay on his stomach, with two pillows propped underneath his middle.

Shane hurriedly pulled off his clothing too, mumbling something overtly sexual, and claiming he didn’t want to get himself all oily. Daryl watched him pull a small tube out of his duffel bag, then crawl over to him on the bed. It smelled like lavender. He poured some of the liquid into his hands, rubbing them together.

“Don’t worry, I’ll warm it up for you,” Shane told him with a grin, though Daryl continued to watch him warily.

He pressed his hands firmly to Daryl’s back and began to slowly work his shoulders. The smaller boy gasped audibly, and his body went tight. Shane knew that being touched like this was still new to him, and didn’t take offense at Daryl’s hesitance.

“Relax,” Shane murmured, “Think you can do that for me?”

He got a grumble muffled by the sheets in response, but Shane’s hands never relented. And soon he could feel the tension slowly evaporate from Daryl’s body, replaced by soft sighs and softer skin as Shane worked over his sore muscles. Daryl’s breathing became slow and steady, matching Shane’s, and the older boy worked his way from the younger boy’s shoulders all the way down to the pads of his feet, and back again.

Shane paid special attention to Daryl’s glutes, working at the orbs of unadulterated muscle with his knuckles and relishing the grateful groan.

“Told you I was good, didn’t I?” Shane said with a chuckle. His slick fingers grazed between Daryl’s cheeks, just skimming over the pink pucker, and Daryl’s body gave an involuntary jolt.

“Fuck,” he sighed in one gushing breath. And when Shane couldn’t decide whether it was a good sigh or bad, he let his fingers trail lower, rolling and cupping Daryl’s balls with one hand.

Daryl let out a soft moan, so Shane’s fingers went back to his ass, circling with a single digit.

“Do you want me to?” Shane murmured. Daryl turned his head to the side, not quite able to look Shane in the eye, but freeing his mouth to speak.

“Mm,” he grunted in the affirmative, and Shane was more than sure that Daryl was on board just by the drowsy, contented expression on his face. The soft smile made Shane flare with possessive pride. _He trusts me enough to let me touch him. He trusts me enough to_ relax _when I touch him._

Daryl’s legs parted minutely, either consciously or unconsciously, and with a hand on the boy’s lower back, Shane slid a finger inside. It took even less time than usual for Daryl to settle into it. One finger became two, and Daryl was rocking gently back against Shane’s hand, panting into the sheets. They were both covered in oil and sweat.

One of Daryl’s hands was fisted in the sheets. And as Shane continued to gently massage that spot inside him, his free hand slid to encompass Daryl’s, pressing softly. Daryl’s eyes blinked open to look at him, and Shane felt him clench around him, letting out a little gasp. Shane rubbed that spot just a little bit harder, and Daryl’s hips bucked, grinding his cock into the sheets underneath him with a quiet whine.

“Fuck, you could come just from this, couldn’t you?” Shane murmured, watching him.

Daryl squirmed a little beneath him. “Don’t want to.”

“Yeah? What do you want, then?” Shane asked him, genuinely curious. He pulled his fingers away, sitting back on his heels. “Why don’t you flip over, yeah? You can show me what you want.”

With a small, disgruntled groan, Daryl complied. He flipped onto his back, propping himself up on his elbows and eyeing Shane’s body. The larger boy was shiny with oil, muscles jutting out attractively, and Daryl’s cock twitched at the sight. He blushed deeply when he realized Shane had noticed.

“Like what you see, huh?” Shane teased lightly. “That’s good. You’re supposed to. ‘Cuz I think I’m liking you all slicked up even more.”

Daryl frowned, eyes darting towards the ground.

“What?” Shane softly questioned.

“Don’t see why ya always gotta go on like that. No need to butter me up. I’m here, ain’t I?”

Shane moved a little closer to him, grazing his fingers over Daryl’s side. “I’m not buttering you up. I say it ‘cuz it’s true. ‘Cuz I like looking at you, and touching you, and I want you to know it.”

“I don’t look like _you_ ,” Daryl said pointedly.

Shane barked out a laugh. “Well while I am one sexy motherfucker, I ain’t so conceited that I’d want to fuck myself.”

Daryl’s expression turned sober. “S’not what I meant, Shane. My body’s all fucked up. Ya don’t gotta pretend to like it.”

Shane shook his head with a sigh and abruptly pressed his lips to Daryl’s, tongue exploding into the younger boy’s mouth and dominating him.

“Stop,” Shane demanded when he pulled away for air. Daryl was panting hot breaths against his lips. “If I say I want you, if I say I like how you look, don’t question that. You’re fuckin’ sexy, alright? There ain’t no way around it. And I don’t wanna have this argument every time I stop to take in the view. Ain’t gonna lie to you ‘bout this, Daryl. And if you’re still not sure, maybe you oughta take into account how fucking _hard_ I am right now, just being near you.”

Shane sat straddling Daryl’s legs, eyes boring into the younger Dixon’s face and watching him gnaw at his lower lip.

“You are pretty hard,” Daryl finally murmured, looking up at Shane through the wisps of his hair.

“Damn straight,” Shane replied with a grin.

Daryl’s fingers twitched at his side, but then he took a steadying breath, and raised a hand to Shane’s chest. He left it there, for a moment. Feeling the way Shane’s heartbeat picked up when he touched him. It gave Daryl a rush knowing he could have that affect on anyone, especially someone like Shane.

He grazed the palm of his hand slowly down the smooth plane of Shane’s stomach, and traced the solid line of his hip bones, which pointed salaciously inwards. When Daryl finally stroked him once, from root to tip, Shane fell forward onto one hand, moaning obscenely.

“Bet I can make you go off first,” Daryl said, a dangerous glint in his eye. He stroked Shane with a steady rhythm now, fist twisting over the head with each downward pass.

“Fuck, I don’t doubt it,” Shane panted. Daryl pulled until Shane was propped over him again.

“Ain’t much of a competition if you don’t even try,” Daryl drawled, more flirtatious than Shane had ever heard him.

He groaned lowly, and slipped a hand between Daryl’s legs. But concentrating on the task was so much more difficult with Daryl touching him like he was. Shane resumed his slow fingering, and Daryl threw his head back in a moan.

Every stroke over his prostate had Daryl’s cock twitching against his stomach, and leaking visibly.

“Jesus, look how much you want me,” Shane crooned. “You get so fuckin’ hard for my fingers in your ass, don’t you Daryl?”

Daryl brought a second hand to Shane’s body, fisting his heavy cock two-handed in retaliation. Shane jumped and moaned, rutting into the firm grasp.

“Not as hard as you get for it,” Daryl panted victoriously, “S’like you said. You want me. Can’t even help yourself.”

Shane’s free hand slammed forward by Daryl’s head, and Shane groaned from deep in his chest.

“I can’t. I really fuckin’ can’t,” Shane huffed. Daryl’s head snapped up, kissing him deeply. A sharp nip to Shane’s lower lip, and he was trembling. “Fuck, Daryl. I can’t stop with you. Can never fuckin’ stop.”

He pressed his fingers harder into Daryl’s body, hoping the smaller boy was as close as he was. One of Daryl’s slick hands left his cock, journeying back towards his balls and toying with them briefly, then back farther still. A long digit pressed brazenly at his entrance, and Shane lost it.

“Daryl!” he moaned, hardly able to gasp in a full breath as he exploded between them, shooting thick ropes of come over the younger boy’s chest.

Daryl worked him through his orgasm, and mid-way through, Shane had the sense of mind to sit back on his heels and grab Daryl’s cock with his now-free hand. He plunged a third finger inside, crooking upwards to prod vigorously at that spot, and simultaneously twisted his fist over Daryl’s slicked up cock. With a gasp, Daryl fell over the edge, a moan choked off in his throat as he came all over his own chest.

He collapsed bonelessly next to Shane’s equally spent body, sated and exhausted. When Daryl eventually awoke, the sun was waning in the sky, and he was alone in Shane’s bed. But he could smell food cooking, so Daryl padded quietly downstairs and into the kitchen.

“What’s for dinner?” he asked, and Shane startled noticeably.

“Jesus, you’re quiet,” Shane breathed, turning around with a grin. “Spaghetti and meatballs. Sound good?”

“Hell yeah,” Daryl replied, smiling. He moved over to the counter by the stove, sitting on the cool marble top and watching Shane work. “Can I ask you somethin’?”

“Sure, man. Anything.”

Daryl bit nervously at his thumb. “Today…you woulda stopped, right? Even if I hadn’t freaked out like I did, you still woulda stopped?”

Shane put down the spoon he was holding and looked up at Daryl. “I…honestly? I don’t know. I hope I would have. Sometimes people say shit to me and I just don’t hear it. I think you know that. But I _did_ stop. And I’m sorry, Daryl. I really fucking am.”

Daryl nodded contemplatively. “Has somethin’ like that happened before?”

“Not as bad as today, no. But I mean, can’t say there ain’t been girls who’ve put up a fuss only to change their tune with a little persuassion.”

“You’ve been with a lot of them, huh?”

“Girls? Yeah, but I’m clean, if that’s what you’re worrying about.”

Daryl peered at him cautiously. “S’not that. S’just, I ain’t a girl.”

Shane chuckled briefly. “Yeah, that’s kinda what I like about ya.”

“But are you sure that this is what…sure that I’m…?”

“What I want? Enough?” Shane finished for him, “Yeah, I’m sure. Pretty fuckin’ positive, actually.”

Daryl seemed to accept that answer, bobbing his head in understanding. “Okay. Then you’ve gotta understand something.” He waited until Shane was looking him in the eye once more. “What happened today, that can’t happen again. You ever try to corner me like that, force me into something again; one of us will get hurt. And it’ll be _you_ , Shane. You get me?”

Daryl’s voice was soft, none of that aggression and drama he forced into it when he was trying to seem tough. No, this threat was real, as solid as Daryl’s fist connecting with his jaw the night before.

“You don’t have to worry about that, from me. I swear, okay? I’m not like _him_.” Shane pressed his body to the counter astride Daryl, wary of caging him in. “I gotta ask you, though. If you’re serious, then why are you still here? I want you to be. Jesus, I _really_ want you to be. But I can’t say I ain’t confused.”

Daryl gave a small shrug. “These days, you make me feel good a hell of a lot more than ya make me feel bad. That’s not worth losin’ over one mistake. And anyways, ya may have gone about it the wrong way, but I know you were just worried ‘bout me.”

Shane huffed out a laugh. “You’re right about that. We good, then?”

“Yeah, we’re good,” Daryl said with a smirk, getting up to set the table. He said the next part so softly that Shane almost didn’t hear him at all. “Anyways, s’nice to have someone worrying.”


	8. Chapter 8

“Fuck, fuck Shane, someone’s gonna see,” Daryl hissed desperately, slamming his head back against the brick wall when Shane’s tongue darted out to swipe over that spot that always made his head swim with pleasure.

“You best get off quick then,” Shane drawled. His eyes sparkled with challenge as he sucked the head of Daryl’s cock back into his mouth.

From just around the corner, the low hum of the cheerleader’s midday practice could be heard clear as day. And yes, maybe they were skipping P.E. for perhaps the fifth time in the last few weeks to hook up for the third time that day. And sure, maybe their chosen locale on this occasion hadn’t been particularly well thought-out. But that didn’t mean Daryl was ready to have the whole school watch him get his dick sucked, or for _anyone_ to find out just who was doing the sucking.

Shane’s mouth formed a tight seal around Daryl’s aching cock. The warm, wet, heat of his damp lips gliding over feverish skin had Daryl’s knees buckling. And the fear of being caught made Daryl’s heartbeat race like never before, one hand gripping Shane’s shoulder like a vice to keep himself standing.

A group of girls walked into the school via the double-doors around the corner from where he and Shane were hidden. Their giggles and idle chit-chat rang out clear as a bell, and even though the wall Daryl was leaning against had no windows, and looked out onto an empty lot, he couldn’t help but feel nervous. The panic of hearing their footsteps mingled with Daryl’s arousal, heightening it.

He knew he was leaking like a faucet under Shane’s expert tongue, but the older boy didn’t seem to mind. Even more so, Shane didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the openness of their position, nor the sharp clank of those double-doors slamming shut intermittently as teens shuffled in and out of the building. Risky summed it up best; but a risk that was well worth it.

And at the end of the day, “worth the risk” could have been the slogan of his and Shane’s relationship, if Daryl were to pick one. They met up behind the bleachers, in abandoned bathrooms, and vacant classrooms. They made out in Daryl’s truck, or Shane’s. On nights when the temperature didn’t drop below freezing, they laid out by the pond in which Daryl had so nearly drowned. And most every night, they slept together in Shane’s bed.

On the few evenings that Shane’s mother wasn’t working the late shift, and therefore spending the night at home, Daryl would tell Shane he was going to sleep back at his place. He’d get in his truck and barrel on down the road in the direction of his decrepit neighborhood. But at the last moment, he’d veer off towards the woods, park on the side of the road, and sleep wrapped up in an old blanket across the truck’s vinyl seating. He’d been keeping a few spare sets of clothing in the back of his truck for weeks now, and hadn’t stepped foot in his house in much longer than that.

Maybe Shane didn’t really understand why Daryl did the things he did. Certainly couldn’t fully comprehend why Daryl refused to go to the police, or why he hid his scars like they were marks of shame rather than badges of courage. But Shane had been right about one very important thing: his home wasn’t safe anymore. And even if Daryl still wouldn’t admit it aloud, he knew better, now, than to willingly place himself in the line of his father’s fire.

Instead, Daryl slept shivering in his truck, on those few nights where he couldn’t stay at Shane’s instead. The older boy had mentioned more than once now that he ought to just _tell_ his mother about Daryl. His mother, and just her, so at least they wouldn’t have to hide in Shane’s own home. But Daryl turned him down firmly and repeatedly, fearing the slippery slope of that truth.

Rick knowing was one thing. He was trustworthy and solid, and even Daryl knew that Rick would never let their secret slip. But if Shane’s mother found out, then this thing they had would be real and alive. If she objected, she might take away the one good thing in Daryl’s life. And even if she gave Daryl and Shane her stamp of approval, happy lips run loose, and it would only take one absent-minded comment to bring his life crumbling down.

Shane’s hand went to Daryl’s nuts, rolling them gently in his palm and squeezing them up towards the younger boy’s body as he plummeted towards release. Daryl was biting hard enough at his lower lip to make it bleed, trying his best to remain silent when every fiber of his being wanted to shout out his pleasure in a whimpering moan.

“Shane, Shane, I’m gonna…” he whispered hurriedly, fingers digging into Shane’s shoulder blade.

The bell marking the end of the period rang out from the school and across the yard. And just on cue, Daryl went over the edge with a loud grunt, panting with his head thrown back as Shane swallowed him down. Shane continued to suckle at him, tongue laving every last trace of his seed until it all became too much and Daryl pulled sharply at Shane’s unruly hair. Shane released him with a pop, grinning at the sweaty, sated boy victoriously.

He hopped easily to his feet, helping Daryl to put himself back together. Just before they rounded the corner to head back to class, Shane thought better of it, and shoved Daryl back against the brick wall, melding their mouths together. Daryl tasted himself on Shane’s tongue, and found that the slightly bitter taste wasn’t nearly as bad as he would have thought. He allowed Shane to pin him there for a moment more. And then with a buck of his hips and a nod of his head, Daryl indicated wordlessly that they ought to get going.

Shane smiled softly at him again; his hand in Daryl’s hair migrated south to run gently over his neck in the gesture of affection he and Daryl so frequently used these days.

“Go on, then,” Shane murmured, allowing Daryl enough room to push past him. He waited a few seconds more before following him inside.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

Shane had football practice after school today, and a game after that. And even though Daryl had been putting off a trip home to retrieve the clothing and books he’d left behind, he knew there was no better time than when Shane was fully preoccupied.

But still, he wasn’t going to be a dumbass about it. Daryl drove by his dad’s garage first, noting that his battered old truck was sitting in the dirt lot outside. And when he arrived at his childhood home, he moved swiftly. Daryl shoveled clothing into his bag without looking, ears at constant attention.

He was reaching under the couch for the Algebra book he _knew_ had to be under there, when Daryl heard his father’s truck roll up behind him. He jumped to his feet, startled. And when the front door slammed with far more force than was necessary, Daryl figured his father had been sent home from work for showing up drunk. Again.

“Well look whose finally showin’ his fuckin’ face,” his father drawled when he saw him. And that probably surprised Daryl more than anything, because in no stretch of his imagination did he figure that his dad would notice his absence.

Daryl remained silent. Over the years, he’d learned that that was the easiest way.

“Been seein’ your truck across town, boy. You finally gettin’ your prick wet? Been fuckin’ some stuck-up rich bitch? Bet she thinks it’s a real rush, getting down and dirty with the likes of you. You know you’re just a fuckin’ piece ‘a charity to her. Some pity-fuck for the poor, dumbass redneck. Ain’t no rich bitch who’d ever give a fuck ‘bout a worthless piece of shit like you,” his father spat. A bottle of southern comfort dangled precariously from his left hand, and he raised it up to take another long draw.

“You answer me when I’m speakin’ to you, boy!” his father abruptly shouted. “You finally gettin’ that sorry excuse for a dick wet?”

Daryl shook his head, arms crossing protectively over his chest. He wanted to tell his dad that things with Shane weren’t like that. Shane _cared_ about him; he knew that much for sure. It wasn’t about pity. Shane wanted him, really fucking wanted him. Daryl wanted to say all those things.

Instead, he looked his father right in the eye and said clear as day, “Fuck. You.”

Daryl tried to memorize the outraged shock on his father’s face, tried to hold onto that spark of pride and satisfaction for what came next.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

Daryl didn’t remember much about the walk.

He remembered stumbling a few times. Being brought to his knees, only to heave himself forward, drawing upon strength he hadn’t known he’d possessed. He moved on auto-pilot. Unthinking, aside from the brief moment when he bitterly mused that he was leaving one hell of an obvious trail.

It was dark, and Shane’s house was even darker. Shane wasn’t picking up his phone, and when Daryl rapped his knuckles on the back door, the windows remained dark, and no one answered.

Daryl wasn’t so sure how he ended up at Rick’s door next. But he was lucid enough to register the horror on Rick’s face when he answered on the fourth ring of the doorbell.

“Jesus, Daryl what happened?” Rick asked in a rush, “Did Shane…?”

Daryl stared down at the ground blankly, but shook his head. No, not Shane.

“I…I d-didn’t know where to go,” Daryl mumbled at Rick’s feet, “Just…need someplace to stay t’night.”

“Christ, Daryl, of course you can. Just get inside, alright? C’mon.”

Rick thought better of reaching out to physically guide Daryl in. Alternatively, he stood aside, allowing Daryl entry. The hunter followed Rick sullenly into the kitchen.

“Just wait here a second, okay?” Rick asked him. He didn’t get a reply, and he was gone a minute later.

Daryl finally allowed himself to collapse onto the floor, pressing his side into the cabinets and letting his eyes fall shut. He must have been more out of it than he thought, because he didn’t register three sets of feet trekking back into the room until they were crowded around him, leaning in.

He jumped when Rick’s mom went to touch him, cowering away from her and further into the corner.

“Daryl, we just want to help you. No one here’s going to hurt you, alright?” she told him in a low, soothing voice.

They stood all around him, caging him in. And Daryl knew he was trembling noticeably now, but he couldn’t get a hold on it. Maybe it made him a pussy, but he couldn’t take this. Not now.

“M’fine,” he tried to mumble, surprising himself when the words came out slurred. _Must have lost more blood than I thought_ , he considered vaguely. “Just…just need Shane.” He looked to Rick, “Where’s Shane?”

Rick crouched down beside him, and Daryl jolted away again, hissing in pain unwittingly.

“He’s got an away-game tonight, remember?” Rick told him slowly, “I left him a bunch of messages; he knows to come here as soon as he gets his hands on his phone. But Daryl, you’ve got to let us help, okay? You can’t see yourself right now. Wherever the blood’s coming from, it hasn’t stopped and—“

“No. No,” Daryl insisted, his voice coming out much shakier than he intended, “Just need Shane. Just find Shane, Rick. Please.”

Rick looked back up to his parents, lost and distressed, and his father motioned for the two of them to give him and Daryl some room. He crouched down to Daryl’s level, keeping a healthy distance between them.

“Daryl, we need to know what happened,” Rick’s father began. “You’re hurt, you understand? And if you don’t tell us where, and how this went down, then we won’t know how to help you.”

Daryl peeked up at him from beneath his sweaty bangs. “You’re the sherriff,” he mumbled.

“I am. And I’m going to help you, Daryl, I promise.”

“You can’t.”

“I will, Daryl. I promise I will. Let’s start with what happened. You say it wasn’t Shane. Did you get in a fight with someone else? Kids from school?”

Daryl glared dourly at the ground, fighting to breathe regularly. Rick’s father was watching him closely, as if his battered body was providing all the answers.

“Did it happen at home, then? Your dad?”

Daryl couldn’t bite back the way he flinched at the memory, still too raw and too recent. He shouldn’t have felt such honest surprise that Rick’s father had guessed so easily. Will Dixon’s drinking problem was no secret around town, and he had a temper with or without the help of the bottle. Still, it hurt to hear it out loud. In such obvious terms that Daryl had to wonder why no one had put it together before. Or if they had, why no one had stopped it.

“You can’t say anythin’,” Daryl bit out in a rush, “Please. Please don’t call it in. I’ll mow your lawn for a year if I’ve gotta. But ya can’t tell no one, okay? Don’t do that to me.”

“Hey, hey, calm down,” the Sheriff said gently, “Does it look like I’m calling anyone? You don’t need to worry about that right now. All I need is for you to tell me what he did, so we know where you’re hurt. Do you think you can do that?”

But Daryl had already shut back down, eyes trailed on the floor and face expressionless.

“Just find Shane,” he mumbled to no one in particular, “M’sorry I came here. Didn’t know…where else to go. Just need Shane. Just…just get Shane.”

After that, Daryl drifted. There were a handful of markers that helped him keep track of the time. First, when Rick asked him how he’d gotten over here to begin with, and Daryl had haltingly explained that his dad had taken his truck, so he’d been forced to walk. Then, when Rick’s mom sat by him for a long while. _We won’t call the cops_ , she told him, _and no one will touch you, so long as you drink some water, Daryl_. _Just drink the water, and take these painkillers, sweetheart. They’ll make you feel better. We don’t want to see you in so much pain._

And Daryl remembered when Rick’s mom gave him some towels to sit on, and he suddenly realized how much blood had seeped onto the floor around him. He stuttered through a frantic apology, not quite awake even then, only remembering what _his_ dad had done the last time he bled out on the kitchen floor.

It couldn’t have spanned more than an hour, maybe two. But the next time he was startled into consciousness, it was by Shane bursting through the front door, shouting his name. The relief he felt when Shane came into his field of view was palpable. He still had on most of his gear from the game. He was covered in sweat, eyes wild. But when he fell to his knees by Daryl’s side, the younger boy fell into him just the same, sighing out his name like a benediction. “ _Shane._ ”

“I know,” Shane murmured into his hair, “I know, man. It’s okay.” He was being careful not to touch Daryl’s back, and when Shane pulled back to look at him fully, Daryl could see Shane was as close to tears as he was. “We’ve gotta get you cleaned up. You shoulda let them help.”

Daryl nodded, eyes still trained on Shane’s. “Didn’t want ‘em to see.”

“I know,” Shane sighed. “I know.”

His hand was on Daryl’s neck, and the younger Dixon had the brief thought that the Grimes family _had_ to know now that he and Shane were…something. But he didn’t have the energy left to be embarrassed, not when Shane’s arrival had so abruptly righted his world.

Shane was working to get him to his feet now, with Rick’s help. And Daryl kept thinking all the while that he’d never had anywhere to go, before, when things got bad. But now, Shane was willing and ready to put Daryl back together, physically and otherwise. And Daryl wasn’t so sure how to cope with that. If he were in better spirits it might have made him uncomfortable. Right now, all he could feel was intense gratitude.

As Rick and Shane dragged Daryl over to the bathroom, Mr. and Mrs. Grimes caught sight of his back for the first time. The shirt was in ribbons.

Shane stripped himself and Daryl out of their clothing while running the water for the bath. There was a light knock on the door, and Shane opened it a crack to retrieve gauze and ointment from Rick’s mom.

“This is gonna hurt,” Shane told him, before pulling Daryl along with him into the bath. Daryl actually huffed out a laugh, at that. What didn’t?

He didn’t flinch much as Shane cleared away the blood, careful with the soft sponge, and intermittently kissing Daryl’s shoulders and neck. Those painkillers Rick’s mom had given him must have been heavy duty. That, or his body’s meter on pain had run out for the evening. Daryl heard Shane mutter some curses as he revealed the damage.

“What happened?” Shane asked him eventually. “What…?”

“He didn’t stop,” Daryl whispered, “Usually he does, if I pass out. Ain’t so much fun if I don’t react, I guess. But he…he didn’t stop. I thought he was gonna kill me this time. I really thought he would.”

Shane wrapped his arms around him as best he could, without putting any pressure on Daryl’s back. “But he didn’t. You’re here. You’re alive.”

It took a while for Shane to see to Daryl’s back. Afterwards, he left Daryl sitting on the edge of the tub for a few minutes, on a search for some clothing for the both of them. Mr. and Mrs. Grimes had come in as he rifled through Rick’s drawers for a shirt that could stretch over his impressive physique.

“Shane, we want Daryl to stay here tonight. We want the both of you to stay,” Rick’s mom began.

“Alright, thanks,” Shane said, “I appreciate it. And Daryl ain’t much of a talker, but he does too. I know he does.”

“Tomorrow, we’re going to have to talk about what to do next,” Sheriff Grimes explained.

“He ain’t gonna want to do that,” Shane said pointedly, “Honestly, if he’s feelin’ at all better by morning, I’d bet money he’ll be out the door before y’all even wake up.”

“We hoped you would try to convince him not to do that,” Mrs. Grimes said gently, “We won’t force him to report this. And won’t go and do it behind his back, either. But please, Shane. Make sure he understands that he’s welcome to stay here. That we _want_ him to stay.”

“I can do that,” Shane said with a sigh. “I’ll figure something out.”

“Shane, do you know how long this has been going on?” Sheriff Grimes asked him.

“Since he was a kid. Seven or eight, I’d guess,” Shane explained. “I’mma get back to him. Thank you both, seriously.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” Mrs. Grimes murmured, kissing him on the cheek before leaving him be. Mr. Grimes gave him a curt, understanding nod.

The Grimes had a spare bedroom downstairs, which was lucky, because Daryl was in no condition to go much further. Shane got him into the room and onto the bed, laying on his front with his face towards Shane.

“We’re gonna stay here tonight,” Shane told him. “And I don’t want you runnin’ off in the mornin’, neither. Rick’s folks are good people. They ain’t gonna rat on you, if that’s what you’re worryin’ about. So you and me are gonna stay here. Where you’re safe. Alright?”

“Alright,” Daryl mumbled, already half-asleep from a combination of exhaustion and the painkillers. “Thank you, Shane.”

“Don’t gotta thank me, man,” Shane murmured, “S’what I’m here for. Just get some sleep.” He carded his fingers through Daryl’s messy locks, and it wasn’t long at all before Daryl was out like a light.

As soon as he was sure Daryl wouldn’t wake up, Shane tip-toed out to the living room. Mr. and Mrs. Grimes had already gone to bed, but Rick was sitting up, waiting for him.

“Is he gonna be okay?” Rick asked.

“Yeah. He’s a tough sonofabitch. And he’s been through worse, I’m guessin’.”

“I didn’t see it,” Rick sighed. “Known him for years, and I never fuckin’ saw it.”

“Yeah, me neither. Not ‘til me and him were already…look, I need you to sit in on him for a while. Just an hour or two.”

“Where are you going?”

“His dad took Daryl’s truck, right? I’m gonna go get it. He ain’t gonna sit still tomorrow if he wakes up and it’s still missing. And his dad might be a sick fucker, but I know Daryl wouldn’t want him to die in a car accident tonight. Better that I take that thing off his hands before he gets himself killed.”

“Do you even know where to find him?”

“Well, there’s only one bar in town. Figure it’s my best bet.”

Rick rubbed the palms of his hands over his eyes. “I….yeah, I’ll watch him. Just be careful, Shane. Alright? Don’t engage him or nothin’. Just get the keys and get out of there.”

“I’m always careful,” Shane said, shooting Rick a half-hearted smile. Fortunately, it was just convincing enough. Rick headed to the back of the house to sit vigil by Daryl’s bed, and Shane trotted swiftly out the front door, features set in determination.

Rage had been bubbling through his system since Shane had listened to the first of Rick’s frantic messages. Will Dixon wouldn’t get away with this. Not again.


	9. Chapter 9

“You sure you want this?” the boyish man asked Shane, seeming skeptical and concerned. And even though he was only a few years out of high school now, he looked much worse off, teeth going yellow and features sullen and defeated.

“I’m sure,” Shane told him, taking hold of the baggie. “Thanks for comin’ through for me. Short notice, and all.”

“Anything for number 22, right?” the guy laughed brokenly. “The team’s family.”

“S’right,” Shane said, “And by that, I take it you won’t be mentioning this to anyone.”

“Nah, man. Who I do and don’t sell to’s a private matter. You expectin’ people to come askin’...?”

“No. Better safe than sorry though,” Shane assured him. “Thanks again.”

Shane headed out the door and in the direction of the single, lonely pub in their rundown town.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

When Shane spotted Daryl’s truck in the parking lot, strewn haphazardly over three spots, he knew he was in the right place.

There was a man decked out in leather and denim, with a good three decades on him, that had pulled in just as Shane arrived. He was only a few feet from the door, and Shane jogged over to cut him off.

“Hey, man. Hold up a sec.”

“Waddaya want kid?” the man asked gruffly.

Shane held up several twenty-dollar bills in front of his face. “Just a favor.”

That seemed to ease the man’s sour expression. He licked his lips lewdly, “Oh yeah, what kinda favor?”

“You got a cell phone?” Shane asked him.

“Mmhmm,” came the affirmative grunt.

“Alright. Imma go inside right after you. Now there’s a guy in there who might ask me to come back out here, and start some trouble. All I want you to do is call the cops if he starts a fight.”

The man narrowed his eyes at Shane. “I ain’t no snitch.”

“And this ain’t snitchin’,” Shane assured him, “Just helpin’ out a friend. A friend who just bought you one hell of a night’s worth of drinks.”

Shane watched the man pocket the cash. “Yeah. Alright, kid. You got a deal.”

TWDTWDTWDTWD

Shane counted down from two-hundred before he walked through the weathered oak door. The paint was green and peeling, façade windowless and bleak. The old fluorescent lighting above the entrance which announced the venue as “BAR” now simply read “BA.” And Shane read those letters again and again, forcing himself to breathe slow and deep.

He shoved the baggie up his jacket sleeve, gestured forwards a few times for practice.

Shane knew he couldn’t fuck this up. No matter how badly he wanted to beat Will Dixon into the ground, fucking obliterate him, make him regret every time he’d ever laid a hand on Daryl, he had to keep himself together. Because Daryl was depending on him now, whether the younger boy knew it or not. He needed to do this right. He needed to do this smart. So that at the end of this fucked up night, Daryl could wake up with Shane next to him in bed. Daryl deserved that small comfort, at the very least.

When Shane finally quieted the buzzing of his blood, he stepped through the door to find Will Dixon as one of five patrons of the small establishment. Even on a Friday night, their town was small, and the population that might venture into a place like this was even smaller. Daryl’s father was easy enough to spot, slumped over on a stool at the bar, with his jacket thrown haphazardly over the seat, and a shot of whiskey in either hand.

Will Dixon looked a mess, but Shane wasn’t sure if that would make things better or worse. Trying to withhold the anger begging to be expressed, Shane took his time walking across the room. When he went to sit on the adjacent stool, he used Dixon’s for leverage, being sure not to make too much of a show of it.

“You Will Dixon?” Shane asked, keeping his eyes forward.

The sorry excuse for a man beside him jumped a little, startled from his drunken daze.

“Whose askin’?” he slurred, throwing back the amber liquid in his glass.

“Just a friend,” Shane replied tightly.

“Ain’t no friend of mine,” Dixon growled.

“I didn’t say I was yours,” Shane said slyly.

“What ya want then?”

“Came to pick up the truck,” Shane explained slowly, calmly. “And to give you a ride home, as well. For the trouble.”

“The fuck you mean you came for the truck. It ain’t yours!”

“Yeah, but I think we both know it ain’t yours either,” Shane said in his most placating tone.

“Fuck if it ain’t!” Dixon was getting riled now, but Shane kept his voice low.

“Look, the truck’s coming with me either way. You really think Daryl wouldn’t have a spare set of keys?” _A lie- but what would Daryl’s bum of a father know either way?_ “So you can either come with me now, and get yourself a ride home, or you can walk. I don’t care either way.”

With that, Shane hopped up from the stool and hurried towards the door. He heard the scrape of metal on wood when Will Dixon went to stumble after him. As Shane swung the door open, he allowed himself to look back once, and only once, to be sure the asshole hadn’t forgotten his jacket. The man in leather and denim met Shane’s eyes, and Shane gave him a curt nod. A call to action. Before Shane stepped outside, he saw the man reach for his cell phone.

Shane made his way outside and to the middle of the lot, a spot illuminated by a single street lamp. Turning back towards the bar, he squared off his shoulders as Daryl’s father approached.

Finally out of earshot of the men in the bar, Shane’s cool façade crumbled, and was replaced by a leering grin.

“You’re a sick son of a bitch, ya know that?” Shane taunted him. Will Dixon stepped into the light, hands twitching.

“The fuck you say to me?”

“I said you’re a son of a bitch. Pathetic. A worthless piece of shit.”

Shane saw the man take several decisive steps towards him, face contorted in anger.

“Bet you’re too big a pussy to even hit me, huh? You gonna put down that purse and fight me like a man? Nah, course y’ain’t. Look atcha. You’re fuckin’ scared—“

Shane was cut off by Will Dixon’s right hook. It was powerful. Practiced. Shane could see, in that moment, why Daryl fought so hard to hide what his father was doing to him. The force of Will Dixon’s fists was something to be feared. But not anymore; Daryl wouldn’t have to fear this bastard ever again.

Stumbling back a step, Shane raised a hand to his face, licked away the dribble of blood from his mouth.

“What, that’s all you got?” Shane laughed. It was enough to set Dixon right over the edge. He took Shane down in a tackle, fists connecting with Shane’s muscular frame without mercy. Shane was sure the man had every intention of killing him. He smiled wider, coughing up the blood pooling in his mouth.

Shane’s eerie calm only seemed to stoke the flames of Will Dixon’s wrath. The teen didn’t seem the least big frightened. Wasn’t cowering away like Daryl often did, or begging him to stop. The elder Dixon punched him with all the strength he had, furious.

It was only a few minutes that Shane had to lay there taking it before he could hear the faint echoes of sirens in the distance. Daryl’s father didn’t seem to notice, much to Shane’s glee. He was too wrapped up in his fit of rage. And Shane had to hand it to him, the man had stamina.

Shane gurgled and spit a globule of blood into the seething man’s face. “Fuckin’ pussy,” he spat, still with that sick smile.

Dixon slammed his head back into the ground, making Shane’s ears ring from the impact. He opened his eyes to find his attacker illuminated by red and blue, face finally settling into shock. Before he could launch himself off of him, Shane pulled him in by the collar. He jerked his head towards the front door of the bar.

“Smile at the camera, bitch,” Shane drawled smugly. Dixon followed the line of Shane’s eyes, and finally spotted the source of the younger boy’s crooked smile. Just under the fluorescent sign that currently read “BA” was a video camera. An ancient one at that, but the red light underneath it proved it was operational. And it was pointed right at them.

“Freeze! Hands in the air!”

Two cops pulled Dixon off of him. Another led Shane over to the waiting ambulance, trying to get the details out of him. Shane forced his lips to quirk downwards, quivering a little.

“He just attacked me!” Shane exclaimed, “He wouldn’t stop!”

From over where Will Dixon was being cuffed, Shane heard one of the cops announce, “Well lookee here! This ain’t your average amount of methamphetamine. Nah, looks to me like you’ve been sellin’, ain’t that right Dixon?”

“That ain’t mine! That ain’t fuckin’ mine!” was all Shane could decipher before the man was shoved into the backseat of the cruiser.

Shane heard the bartender giving his statement, “Kid offered him a ride home. Guy was drunk off his ass anyways, always is. But Dixon flipped a shit on him. Ain’t exactly a surprise.”

The EMT sorted out Shane’s mess of a face, and the handful of, what she put it as, “defensive wounds” on his hands. Another cop came over to take pictures of him just as Sheriff Grimes pulled into the lot.

“Shane?!” he called out, jogging over. “Jesus, are you alright?” He grasped Shane by the shoulders, grimacing at the damage.

“M’fine,” Shane said softly. “I’m fine, I swear.”

“What the hell happened?”

“Just came to get Daryl’s truck back. Give his Dad a ride home, so he wasn’t driving drunk. I thought he was gonna take me up on it too, when he followed me outside. But then he just lost it…” Shane trailed off, “It was stupid, I know it was. But that truck just means so much to Daryl and I didn’t think he’d want his Dad _dead_ and—“

“Shane, calm down,” Rick’s father said calmly. He looked the boy in the eye. “This isn’t your fault, alright? I know you were just trying to help out your friend. Just wait over here, okay? We need to get a few more statements, sort out this crime scene, and then we’ll both go back home. Talk to Daryl together.”

“Okay,” Shane said quietly, nodding his head. Sheriff Grimes stalked off, and Shane gave it a good ten minutes before walking silently over to the cruiser in which Will Dixon was cuffed. He slid into the front seat, waited for the man to meet his deadly gaze.

“Saw what you did to Daryl,” Shane began. And when Dixon’s mouth quirked in what was almost a smile, Shane felt that rage burning underneath his skin again. He swallowed it down. “You’re never gonna touch him again, you understand me? Never gonna see him again. As far as I’m concerned, you don’t know a Daryl. He ain’t your son. Got it?”

Dixon chuckled roughly. “You can’t keep me away from him. He’s my blood. The boy needs me.”

“No,” Shane said with a dark smile, “He needs _me._ You, you’re just a shitty memory. And soon you’ll be even less than that. I’ll take good care of Daryl, don’t you worry.”

It was all Shane was willing to say on the matter. He’d made a promise to Daryl, and he wouldn’t break it. But the vague flicker of understanding and outrage on Dixon’s face was satisfaction enough.

“I hope you die in prison,” Shane said, before slipping out of the car and heading back over to Sheriff Grimes’ cruiser.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

It was the sound of his own truck pulling into the driveway that startled Daryl awake. He was up with a jolt, searching frantically in the darkness for Shane and coming up empty. Rick was still perched on the chair next to his bed, fast asleep. Daryl shook him roughly.

“Where’s Shane?” he questioned desperately, feeling unreasonably panicked.

“He ain’t back yet?” Rick mumbled, still half-asleep. And that had Daryl immediately on his feet. He rounded the corner into the living room just as the front door opened, and the sight of Shane stopped him in his tracks.

Shane was instantly moving towards him, speaking lowly to try to calm his panic before it started. It took a few seconds for Daryl to decipher his words.

“Daryl, I’m fine, alright? Everything’s gonna be fine. Just sit down a minute, we need to talk.”

Sheriff Grimes flicked on the light and sat down on the couch opposite them. Rick’s mother emerged from the stairway in a bathrobe, to sit by his side. Rick sauntered in as well, and Shane guided Daryl down to the loveseat.

“What’s goin’ on?” Daryl mumbled, looking between Shane and Rick’s father. His eyes trailed over Shane’s injuries, and he bit his lip hard enough to split it. “My Dad do that to you?”

Out of view of the rest of them, Shane placed his hand on Daryl’s hip, rubbed gently. “I went to get your truck, and offered him a ride home. He…well, he snapped.”

“Daryl, your father is going to prison,” Rick’s Dad explained. “One of the bar patrons called 911 when he saw the fight. There was a security camera outside, so we have the entire thing on film. And when he was picked up, he had a hefty amount of methamphetamine on his person. We’re talking aggravated assault of a minor, and possession with the intent to distribute. Any one of those things alone could means 20 years inside. But your father decided to plead down. He’s going to serve the terms concurrently; 15 years with the chance of parole.”

The room went silent, all eyes on Daryl as he slowly processed the information.

When he finally spoke, his voice shook. “So when are they coming to get me?”

Sheriff Grimes’ brow furrowed in confusion. “Who?”

“Social services,” Daryl replied. “My Dad and Merle were the only ones…and they’re both inside now. So I gotta go to a home. Do I at least get tonight?”

“No one’s coming to get you, son,” Rick’s father said soothingly. “At least, not unless you want them to. What my wife and I wanted to talk to you about was the possibility of you staying here, with us.”

Daryl stared at them both blankly. “You…want me to live with you?”

“Yes, dear. We really do. But of course, only if that’s what you want,” Mrs. Grimes added.

Daryl worried his lower lip. “But…why? Y’all don’t even know me.”

“We know you deserve a chance,” Mrs. Grimes said gently.

“And if our son vouches for you, then we can too,” the Sheriff finished. Daryl looked to Rick, who was only smiling encouragingly. He leaned just a little more of his weight into Shane.

Daryl swallowed hard. “Y’all are sure?”

“We’re sure,” Mrs. Grimes assured him with a smile. “So what do you think? Do you want to stay here?”

Daryl glanced down at his hands, then back up at the room. “Yeah,” he breathed, “Okay.”

The Sheriff shot him a wide smile, “Great. We can talk more about the details in the morning. For now, you boys need to get some sleep. It’s been a hell of a day.”

He took his wife by the hand and headed up the stairs, with Rick just behind them.

Daryl was still sitting on the couch, wordless, processing. So Shane took him by the arm and guided him back towards the bedroom.

Shane stripped off his clothing economically, wincing a little as he stretched his sore muscles. But before he could lead Daryl over to the bed, the younger boy had pulled him into a tight hug, face buried in his neck. Shane could feel him trembling, just barely.

“It’s okay, man,” Shane murmured, “I’m fine, everything’s fine. Just like I said it’d be.”

Daryl pressed his forehead to Shane’s shoulder, and pulled in a shuddering breath.

“Sorry,” he muttered, but Shane wouldn’t have that.

“Got nothin’ to be sorry for, man. Today’s fuckin’ sucked.”

Daryl let out gasp of a laugh. “No. M’sorry he did that to ya.”

Shane sighed, one hand on Daryl’s neck. “Wasn’t your fault. You know that.”

He let Shane pull him over towards the bed, but when Shane sat down on the edge, Daryl was abruptly on top of him, lips melded to his. True to form, Shane’s dick responded before his head caught up, hard in half a heartbeat and barely concealed by his boxers. Daryl pushed him roughly onto his back, and began kissing his way down Shane’s torso just an ounce too hard. But even the sting of it had Shane panting, moaning with every other breath as Daryl’s tongue descended lower and lower.

When Daryl pressed a kiss to Shane’s rigid length through the thin fabric of his boxers, two things happened at once. Shane’s cock jerked in interest, and Shane pushed Daryl away in a rush, grabbing the younger boy by either arm.

“Fuck, Daryl, stop,” Shane groaned, trying and failing at sitting up.

Daryl frowned at him like he’d grown a second head. “Why the fuck would I do that?”

“Cuz we ain’t never done that, and—“

“You’ve done it plenty,” Daryl pointed out, “S’just me that ain’t given it a try.”

“You’re hurt,” Shane said petulantly.

“So are you. Bet this’ll make ya feel better. Just ‘cuz I ain’t never done it…”

“And you don’t have to,” Shane insisted, “I know you don’t want to, and I’m alright with it. Just ‘cuz today was fucked don’t mean you gotta—“

“Don’t tell me what I want,” Daryl growled. “I don’t do shit I don’t _wanna_ do, remember? Just like you. And right now, I want you to shut up and let me suck you off.”

Even in the low light, Shane could see the way Daryl blushed at his own words. His resolve wavered, cock hard as ever at the prospect.

“Yeah?” Shane asked him breathlessly, “Why don’t you get up here and kiss me with that filthy mouth?”

Having some direction seemed to help, as Daryl instantly complied, carefully holding himself over Shane as they kissed. He pushed the older boy back against the pillows, propped up slightly to watch, and hastily moved back down to kneel between Shane’s legs. He pulled away the boy’s boxers, then stroked his cock up and down, a familiar motion.

Daryl settled on his stomach in front of Shane, with the older boy watching him fixedly, and tentatively swiped his tongue over the reddened head. More satisfying than Shane’s muffled gasp was the fact that Daryl really didn’t mind the taste. He lapped at Shane with kitten licks, enjoying the way his cock would jump each time.

“Fuck, Daryl…” Shane groaned, “You feel so good.”

With that little bit of encouragement, Daryl pulled back and swallowed Shane’s cock as far down as it would go. Shane choked out a surprised moan, both hands going for Daryl’s head and gripping his hair hard. He bobbed slowly at first, dragging his tongue along the length of him the way Shane always had. The older boy moaned again through closed lips. Daryl could tell he was trying to stay quiet, but the fact that Shane simply couldn’t had Daryl glowing with pride.

Daryl began to grind against the sheets in the same slow rhythm that he worked Shane’s cock, both embarrassed and surprised that he was just as hard as Shane was. The jock’s hands on his head didn’t push, but noticeably twitched each time his cock met the back of Daryl’s throat.

“Jesus, Daryl,” Shane moaned, “Wanted this for so long. M’not gonna last.”

And Daryl believed him. It was obvious enough from the way the boy was writhing, entire body rocking up to meet Daryl’s mouth. Shane was making noises Daryl had never heard before, needful whimpers and groans. And the fact that Daryl had done that to him had the younger boy pulsing with want. His hips canted faster against the bed sheets, growing desperate.

“Love your mouth,” Shane was moaning, “So good, you’re so fuckin’ good.”

Daryl brought a hand up to follow the trail of his lips. He swirled his tongue around the head, tasting the salty bitterness.

“Gonna come,” Shane announced with a gasp, “Fuck, Daryl…gonna come, gonna—“

He cut himself off with a moan, Daryl’s lips leaving him just in time for Shane to shoot all over his own chest. And Shane was still coming in rough waves when he pulled Daryl up by his armpits, grasping his come-slick cock and stripping over the feverish skin once, twice, before Daryl was coming hard, back arching in orgasm as his whole body quaked.

He collapsed half on top of Shane, face pressed into the older boy’s neck as his own cock ceaselessly twitched of its own accord. Daryl was asleep before Shane had even managed to clean himself off.

It too much longer than that for Shane to quiet his racing heart. He closed his eyes and relived the day’s events, trying to search out that spark of guilt. But none came. If anything, the only thing he regretted was lying to Daryl. And even then, it was a lie by omission. A lie to keep him safe.

Shane reached with his free hand and fingered the raised lines peeking out from the hem of Daryl’s shirt. They were all the reminder Shane needed that he’d done what was right. He was still tracing them when he drifted off.


	10. Chapter 10

Daryl Dixon was shit at waking up in strange places. It had taken him weeks of practice before he’d finally awoken in Shane’s bed without that familiar bout of panic. And during those few weeks, Daryl had shoved Shane away from him, fallen awkwardly to the floor, and hyperventilated briefly against the wall more times than he cared to admit.

When he was young, he’d always wake up in his half-broken bed, or with Merle beside him. Sometimes it was both. But as long as Merle was there too, it didn’t bother Daryl much if he came to out in the middle of the woods, or in some random guy’s basement, or on a yacht. He’d run the gambit, but if Merle was in sight when Daryl opened his eyes, then he knew things were fine.

The first time Daryl had woken up without either of his stipulations met was the night after his mom had burned. The night commemorating his first beating. He never told Shane that part.

But really, Daryl couldn’t control the way his body tensed to steel and heart took off like lightening when he woke up in a bed much too comfortable to be his own, head pressed against a pillow that was warm, and moving, and snoring slightly.

“Go back to sleep,” came the immediate, displeased and sleepy grumble from the pillow beside him. Daryl breathed out a sigh of relief.

_Shane. Just Shane._

“Can’t,” Daryl murmured back, having to work harder than usual to pull himself up off the bed.

Shane cracked an eye open, “You hurtin’?”

Daryl grunted noncommittally, shrugging a shoulder and trying to appear blasé about it. “Ain’t  _you_?”

“’Course,” Shane said seriously, finally sitting up himself. “Y’alright?”

There was a tense silence, during which Daryl could plainly feel Shane’s eyes on the side of his face, before he quickly mumbled, “Will be.”

TWDTWDTWDTWD

The social worker’s visit was a dreary affair. She was a bustling woman with curls cranked to maximum volume, an ill-fitting blazer, and a briefcase that kept bursting open and spilling her files across the floor.

Her voice was a hum; a string of mismatched words that Daryl couldn’t focus on. He didn’t want to, mostly.

“In order to become Mr. Dixon’s temporary guardians, you’ll need permission of his primary guardian, and of the state—“

“He ain’t gonna do that,” Daryl interrupted, speaking up for the first time since she’d arrived. The adults in the room looked at him in surprise. “My dad ain’t gonna give permission,” Daryl clarified. “Ain’t there some way around it?”

“And we don’t want to be  _temporary_  guardians,” Mrs. Grimes added, taking Daryl by surprise, “Daryl can stay with us as long as he wants to.”

“Unless you can provide evidence that your father is unfit as a guardian, then he still has some say in the process—“

“He’s a criminal. Ain’t that enough?”

“Unfortunately, no. As your father, he has power of attorney for you, and can decide himself who gets custody of you while he is in prison. So long as he chooses a competent adult, these types of rulings usually aren’t questioned. Really, the only situation in which a judge might overturn it is if the un-incarcerated parent files a motion…but in your case…”

“So what do I gotta do?” Daryl sighed, getting frustrated. He really didn’t want to recap this again.  _Your mama’s dead and your dad’s in prison. You’re basically an orphan._

“You would either have to convince him to sign over custody to the Grimes’, or prove that your father is unfit as a parent. Though I should warn you that if you do the latter, he’ll likely lose custody of you permanently. It’s difficult to contest these types of things from inside.”

“You got a camera?” Daryl asked. The woman eyed him in confusion, and Daryl felt Shane shift closer to him on the couch. The Grimes shot him a look of shock and solemn understanding. “Why, yes, but—“

“If he hurt me, s’been hurtin’ me, is that enough proof for you? You people will leave me be?”

The woman stared at him blankly for a moment. And that moment felt enormous, elongated and wide and bursting at its seams. Because even though a handful of people knew what his father had been doing to him all these years, Daryl had never said it aloud. Not once.

_He hurts me. All he does is hurt me. Don’t let him do it again._

“I—“ the woman went speechless, for the first time since she’d arrived. “Yes. If you can prove it, then he’ll lose custody. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Why don’t we give Daryl some privacy?” Mrs. Grimes offered, apparently just for her son and husband’s sakes. They clambered slowly into the kitchen while Daryl unbuttoned his shirt, and Shane helped him to peel back the gauze.

Daryl stood up, holding the woman’s fixated gaze. “This is what he did to me before he got himself arrested last night.”

He turned around slowly, keeping his eyes on Shane and only Shane while he felt the woman rise from her own seat, and move towards him. He was expecting the gasp, he really was. But the noise still made him grimace, face going red in some mixture of humiliation, anger, and determination.

“I—“ she murmured again, at a loss for words. She seemed to want to say a lot of things. Probably tell Daryl how sorry she was that he’d gone through this, make promises that it would never happen again. To his relief, she instead only murmured, “Let me get my camera.”

After that, her examination only spanned a few minutes. He trembled the entire time, hands fisted at his sides. Fleetingly, he hoped the pictures wouldn’t come out too blurry. But the worry of that didn’t much help with his shaking, only deepened his blush to a mellow burgundy.

Daryl had only ever allowed two people to see his back in its full, horrific glory. The second had been Shane, mostly out of necessity. The first was an ER doctor when Daryl was ten.  _I fell down a cliff,_  Daryl had told her,  _scratched up my back real bad on the fall, couldn’t reach it myself_. It had been such an obvious lie, he thought. And the woman hadn’t seemed the least bit convinced. But at the end of the night, she’d sent him right back home to daddy, escorted by two police officers.  _It’s state law,_ she’d told him,  _I’m sorry._

He couldn’t remember if he’d replied to her out loud, or in his own mind, but Daryl certainly remembered the words.

_Me too._

When it was over, Shane was quick to usher him into the bathroom, change his bandages and get him somewhere isolated and quiet. He didn’t say anything once they were alone, just waited for Daryl to show him what he needed. But he didn’t need much, in the end. Just a curt nod and a pat on the shoulder before heading back out to face the world.

Later that night, Sheriff Grimes pulled him aside, after dinner.

“What you did today, that was incredibly brave,” he told him, “And I don’t want you to ever think otherwise.”

He’d shrugged it off, and headed back towards the bedroom he and Shane were to share for the second night in a row. And Daryl was more than grateful that neither of Rick’s parents had seemed to question that. Though he _had_ overheard Rick’s mother ask Rick about it, before heading up to bed.

Rick had mumbled out something along the lines of, “They’re friends. Good friends.”

And that had been the end of it.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

The first night without Shane had been the hardest. He’d headed back to his own house, under the command of his mother, and left Daryl alone with the Grimes family for the first time.

He’d been hiding out in what was now  _his_  room, when Mrs. Grimes popped her head in the door.

“Dinner in five,” she said, giving him an expectant smile.

Daryl put down the book he was reading to look at her. “I’m fine,” he replied cautiously.

She frowned at him. “Daryl, you  _must_  be hungry. You didn’t take the lunch I packed you today, and you hardly ate breakfast.”

He worried at his lower lip. “I could get a job,” was his abrupt offer, and Mrs. Grimes’ frown turned from worry to plain confusion.

“Why would you do that?”

“To help pay for the food, an’ everything—“

“ _Daryl_ ,” she cut him off, but with an understanding sort of smile, and a sad look in her eyes. “You’re not a tenant here. You don’t need to pay rent or pay for food. This is your home too, and I don’t want you to feel bad about taking whatever food you want, however much you want, whenever you want. Understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Now let’s go eat.”

TWDTWDTWDTWD

Eventually, Daryl’s body got used to having three square meals a day. The way Rick’s mother fussed over him still made him uncomfortable, but not worrying about when he’d eat next was a welcome change.

The day after Shane left was a Saturday, and Sheriff Grimes drove with Daryl over to his old house to pick up whatever he wanted to keep, and help him sort out the rest. They’d taken Daryl’s truck, at the younger boy’s insistence. He knew Rick’s dad didn’t really understand why, but you couldn’t just roll around his side of town in a cop’s cruiser. They wouldn’t be safe.

Once inside, Daryl tried to be as quick as possible. He hated the look in the man’s eyes as he surveyed the danger zone that was Daryl’s childhood home. But luckily, there wasn’t all that much for Daryl to collect. He shoved some clothing into a trash bag, and grabbed his bow and spare bolts.

Daryl held the bow possessively when he returned to the living room. He wanted to be out of there already; the house was an embarrassment. Empty whiskey bottles and beer cans littered the floor, along with faded copies of skin magazines and cigarette butts that never made it to the ridiculous bikini bucket that his father had used as an ashtray. The only furniture was a broken down armchair and a TV on the floor opposite it. There were clear jars surrounding the chair, all half-filled with what the Sheriff surmised to be spit. Finally, he looked up at Daryl.

“Is it alright if I bring this?” Daryl asked him hesitantly.

The Sheriff cocked an eyebrow, “You know how to use it?”

“Yessir.”

“For hunting, I assume.”

“Mmhmm.”

“You do that for sport?”

Daryl paused a beat. “S’food.”

Rick’s dad nodded mostly to himself. “Alright. You promise not to use it in the house, in the neighborhood for that matter, and you can take it. I trust you. Just make sure you don’t keep it loaded.”

And that was probably the first time he’d seen Daryl smile.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

Shane was over every other night, but on the nights he wasn’t, Daryl kept to himself. He’d chat with Rick briefly at the breakfast and dinner table- mostly one-worded answers: the Dixon special- but generally just hid out in his room. It wasn’t his family, and he didn’t want to intrude.

Rick only stood for a week of this before knocking obnoxiously loud on Daryl’s closed door just after dinner that night.

“Yeah?” from inside.

Rick swung the door open. “Come play Mario Kart with me.”

Daryl gave him a skeptical look. “Never played before.”

“That’s okay, I’ll teach ya. But it’s more fun with some else, so  _c’mon_.”

_Fucking stubborn Grimes men._

“Yeah, okay.”

They walked out to the living room, where Rick’s parents were sitting up against each other on the couch, both reading. Daryl and Rick plopped down on the floor in front of the TV, and Rick rather excitedly showed him the basics.

An hour passed by before either of them knew it.

“Yer cheatin’!” Daryl accused.

“To hell I am, you just suck at this!” Rick replied with a laugh.

“It’s my first time!”

“Yeah, well it shows.”

“Yeah, well screw you Grimes. Gonna eat your words.”

“Aw, you’re all talk.”

“Quit runnin’ me off the damn road!”

“I wouldn’t have to if you’d quit bein’ a baby ‘bout it.”

“Call me a baby one more time, see what happens,” Daryl spat, but he couldn’t hide his grin.

“Oh, and now he’s pouting too. You’re a sore loser, anyone ever tell you that?”

“Well pushin’ buttons ain’t much of a game. Oughta see how you’d do on a real road.”

“No one’s racing any cars,” Mrs. Grimes interjected.

“Aw c’mon mom,” Rick griped, “My reputation’s on the line.”

“Listen to your mother,” Sheriff Grimes announced distractedly, eyes never leaving his book.

“You heard the lady,” Daryl mocked, shooting Rick a triumphant smile.

“Jerk.”

“Dick.”

“Boys!” both Grimes’ voices echoed.

After that, Daryl didn’t hide out in his room anymore. After dinner, he’d hang around in the living room with the rest of the family, playing video games or watching TV, or sometimes just reading. There was something comfortable about it, albeit foreign, and Daryl fell into the routine quickly.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

Shane noticed the change faster than anyone.

It was a slow process. Incremental, over the few weeks Daryl had lived with the Grimes. But each time Shane saw him, the truth became more and more obvious.

Shane wasn’t the only one who could make Daryl smile, anymore.

And even though he was happy for Daryl, and he really was, he never expected that realization to sting quite so much.

Rick and Daryl had inside jokes now. They’d chuckle conspiratorially, even when Shane was present, and tease each other over incidents he hadn’t been present to witness. Rick spent just as much time with Daryl as Shane did now, and even when Shane came over, it wasn’t quite the same. His visits weren’t just about him and Rick anymore; and he and Daryl were never quite alone.

If Shane really put any thought to it, the honest source of his frustration was probably his perpetually blue balls. Ever since that first, desperate time, Daryl hadn’t let Shane get much further than kissing. And even then, he’d only let the older boy touch him with the door practically barricaded, and their clothes firmly  _on._

Daryl didn’t feel comfortable leaving the Grimes’ house overnight yet. He’d been offered a home, and he figured it was plain insulting to neglect it for his dick’s sake. And Shane didn’t hold that against him, but the wait was becoming maddening.

They’d had the conversation more than a dozen times.

“C’mon, Daryl. I want you.”

“Shane, stop. Can’t do this here.”

“Then come to my place.”

“I…can’t. Ya know I cant.”

Rick and Daryl broke into another round of laughter, referencing some movie they’d watched the night before, and Shane finally snapped. He stood abruptly from the table, chair legs screeching against the tiled floor.

“Goin’ to bed,” he ground out, already out of the room.

And he’d only paced the length of Daryl’s bedroom twice before the archer himself appeared at the door.

“Y’alright?” he asked, almost shyly, and in the softer version of his voice that nearly always made Shane’s aggression melt away.

Not this time, though. “M’fine,” he spat.

Daryl stepped the rest of the way into the room, closing the door behind him. “Yeah? ‘Cuz ya don’t look it.”

“S’that right? Well why dontcha go chat with your buddy  _Rick_  about it?” Shane growled, immediately embarrassed by just how juvenile he sounded.

Daryl huffed incredulously. “S’that what this is about?”

“Dunno what you’re talking about,” Shane replied stubbornly.

“Need to hear me say it ? ‘Cuz I will,” Daryl said firmly. He waited for Shane’s eyes to meet his. “S’like you said in the beginning, I ain’t lookin’ at every guy that passes my way. Just you. So quit bein’ a dick.”

Shane sighed, scrubbing a hand over the back of his head. “I know I’m being nuts. I know it.”

“You are. And you know as well as I do that Rick’s straight as a board.”

“Coulda said the same thing ‘bout you a few months back,” Shane said with a small grin.

“And ya best keep on sayin’ it if ya know what’s good for ya,” Daryl said lowly, with an exasperated smirk.

Shane approached him slowly, resolutely, walking Daryl backwards until he was pressed up against the closed door.

“Shane…”

He slotted his knee between Daryl’s slightly parted legs, and ran a hand down the younger boy’s torso, making him shiver.

“Now I don’t believe for a second y’ain’t needin’ this as much as I am.” He provided the slightest amount of pressure against the boy’s growing bulge, and Daryl groaned lowly.

“We can’t—“

Shane cut him off with his mouth, consuming him with tongue and lips, going deeper and wetter until neither of them could breathe properly anymore. All the while, he snaked a hand between them to pop open Daryl’s faded jeans. With a flick of his wrist, he had Daryl’s straining cock in hand. It only took a few strokes to get the younger boy panting.

“Fuck, Shane, fuck…” he whispered.

Shane shushed him close to his ear, “Gotta be quiet, Daryl. Think you can do that for me?”

He twisted his palm just so, and Daryl moaned against his mouth. Shane was grateful in that moment for Sheriff Grimes’ obsession with the Longhorns. If not for the game blaring in the next room, they’d certainly have been fond out by now.

“S’been a long time for both of us, hasn’t it?” Shane crooned, “But look how bad you’re needin’ this, man. Look how wet you are for me.”

He bit down on the column of Daryl’s neck, sped the pace of his fist, and Daryl cried out sharply before being silenced by Shane’s mouth again.

“Do I need to gag you?” Shane teased when he pulled away, “No, not a gag. Not now, at least. You just need to come, don’t you Daryl? You want me to make you come?”

“Yes,” Daryl gasped, surprised that he could even put that coherent of a thought together when his world was spiraling as it was. “Yes, Shane.  _Please_.”

“So good for me, Daryl,” Shane murmured as he sunk to his knees, and pulled Daryl’s jeans down with him. “You’re mine, aren’t you? No one else gets to see you like this. No one else gets to have you.”

A slick finger circled at Daryl’s entrance, and his legs shook precariously. Shane pressed open-mouth kisses up and down Daryl’s straining cock. “Say it, Daryl.”

“No one else, fuck, no one- I’m yours, Shane- I can’t- oh fuck, please,” came the string words groaned all at once. But it was enough, because then Shane’s fingers were crooked inside of him, and his mouth was dragging up and down Daryl’s rigid length, memorizing the feel of him.

And since Daryl had been denying himself this for weeks now, it took embarrassingly little to set him over the edge.

“Shit, oh shit Shane, don’t stop,” he moaned. Daryl was close, so close, and he just needed—

Shane’s tongue swirled around the crown, dipping into the slit.

“Oh god,” Daryl groaned, hips pushing forwards into Shane’s mouth, and boring down against his talented fingers. “Just like that. Just like that, Shane,  _yes._ ”

Suddenly, it crested. Daryl cocked his hips and pumped forward, moaning Shane’s name deep and soft before pleasure took hold of his muscles, careening him off that cliff of want and into Shane’s knowing hands.

Daryl didn’t go falling the floor, but that was only by Shane’s doing. And it was just a half-second more before Shane was on his feet again, whipping his aching cock out of its tight, denim confines, and wrapping Daryl’s hand around him.

Shane pressed his hand over Daryl’s, forcing them to stroke together.

“Fuck, Daryl,” Shane groaned, rutting into the tight grip.

And when Daryl had finally gotten his words back, he whispered, “Yeah, Shane. C’mon. Give it to me.”

Shane’s head fell to his shoulder in a gesture of uncharacteristic submission, and allowed Daryl to work him unguided. Both his hands fisted in Daryl’s shirt.

“I know how bad you need it,” Daryl told him, and Shane bit down on his lip hard. “Lemme see you come, Shane. Lemme see you come for me.”

And with that, Shane shouted his release into the crook of Daryl’s neck, mumbling curses in the aftermath and letting Daryl take charge of keeping him standing.

“Just ‘cuz shit’s changed, don’t mean we’ve gotta,” Daryl said softly.

If Shane could have gasped in a full breath, he would have wholeheartedly agreed.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday!

Daryl’s boots had survived hundreds of hunts, multiple fights with Shane, and dozens of beatings from his father. They’d made it unscathed through snowy winters and balmy summers, muddy creeks and brimming rivers. His boots had survived more than a year and a half as _Merle’s_ boots, kicking ass and taking names and otherwise just causing a ruckus.

But one misplaced nail, and Daryl’s reliable old boots were done for.

He glared at them in dismay. The rotting scrap of metal had pierced straight through the sole, and ripped it away from the binding leather when Daryl had attempted to take his next step. It was about as destroyed as a boot could get, and it pissed him off to no end.

Daryl hopped into his truck with crossbow in tow, figuring that while this was an annoying problem, it was one he knew good and well how to fix.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

The first sign of concern came from Rick, leaving voicemails for Shane, and both his parents respectively, asking where Daryl had run off to after school. They’d developed a pretty firm routine in the few weeks since Daryl had moved in permanently, one that the younger Dixon hadn’t deviated from even once. So when Rick waved goodbye to Daryl in the school parking lot, only to find himself sitting alone at home two hours later, he started to worry.

And when dusk rolled around, then dinner time, and Daryl still hadn’t returned, worry became blatant panic. Sheriff Grimes sent out a notice to all the on-duty cops in his district, with a description of Daryl and his truck. And Rick’s mother was on the phone, calling just about every parent from the high school, when Shane burst through the front door still in his football gear.

No one had seen Daryl. No one had heard from him. Aside from the handful of books and discarded t-shirts in his room, he had all but disappeared.

Shane called Daryl’s cell just about every fifteen minutes. Every call went to voicemail, and Shane left him messages just as often. They varied wildly from distressed to angry to pleading, depending on the athlete’s frame of mind. But they were consistent in that they all begged Daryl to come home, call home, _anything_.

The quartet stayed up all night. Rick and Shane took turns rolling around the neighborhood, sometimes shouting out Daryl’s name as if he were a stray dog, only needing the proper motivation to find his way home. Sheriff Grimes bounced back and forth between the house and the station. He checked the local hospitals. The morgue. His cop’s brain told him that it hadn’t even been 24 hours yet, and that Daryl wasn’t _missing_ , per se. But his parent brain overrode that knowledge, driving him into a frenzy as he listed out for himself all the ways he’d failed Daryl Dixon, and all the horrible things that could be happening to him right now.

The night was filled with the sound of Sheriff Grimes’ radio scanner, and his walkie-talkie going off intermittently for updates. No one slept; and after a while, no one spoke much either, unless it was to offer another locale where Daryl might have been hiding out.

Early the next morning, the rumbling groan of Daryl’s beat-up truck never sounded so sweet. The family went clambering out of the house in a dash, stopping in their tracks when Daryl jumped out of the vehicle covered in dirt and blood. Shane was the first to collide with him.

“Jesus, what happened to you?” Shane said in a rush, “Are you hurt? What the _fuck_ , Daryl? Where were you!?”

There were more questions, all coming at once but resonating the same. Daryl stared at them all, baffled, as Mrs. Grimes finally put a stop to it and quickly ushered him inside. She stepped in front of him, honing his attention.

“Daryl, I…” she choked on her words, seeming fairly close to tears in a way that had Daryl even more confused than before. “Are you alright, sweetheart? Are you hurt?”

Daryl looked down at his ensemble, making the connection. “Shit, no. S’not my blood—“

“Are you in trouble?” Rick’s father interjected, “Because you can come to us with that, you _know_ you can—“

“I’m fine!” Daryl very nearly shouted, “Christ, I ain’t in trouble, what’s—?”

“Daryl,” Rick interrupted him, “Where have you been? We’ve been looking for you all night, man. We thought something happened to you.”

“Why the fuck didn’t you pick up your phone?” Shane growled.

“Or tell anyone where you were going? _Where were you_?” Mrs. Grimes reiterated.

Daryl blinked twice in bewilderment, eyes darting between the four angry, relieved, confused faces.

“I uh…I just…I needed new shoes,” Daryl finally said in a faint voice. He paused, and the tension was palpable. “I ain’t got a lotta money, but there’s this guy I know up in Senoia, who’ll pay me for meat. Took all night to track down the buck, and dress it. Came right back here after I made the trade.”

Daryl looked helplessly between their faces, watching understanding belatedly reach them. He curled his arms into his chest protectively, biting at his lip. It figured that he’d managed to fuck this up too, and _quick_ , like he was an expert at it or something. Staring down at his feet, Daryl braced himself for whatever type of pain was bound to follow.

“M’sorry. I didn’t mean to…didn’t think you’d…” Daryl cut himself off, at a loss for words, or any kind of explanation.

Mrs. Grimes was the first to recover, moving abruptly to sweep him into a tight hug. Daryl froze at first, expecting a blow far more than something affectionate, but eventually allowed himself to relax into it, and process the words flowing from her mouth.

“Oh, sweetheart. We were so worried. I’m so glad you’re alright.”

She repeated the words over and over, all variations of just how happy she was to have Daryl home safe. Because she wouldn’t yell at him for this. Not now, when the teen had made it so painfully clear that he believed not only that they wouldn’t care if he didn’t come home one night, but that they wouldn’t _notice._ Her heart clenched painfully at the thought, and she squeezed him tighter, ignoring his slightly muffled grunt.

When she finally released him, Rick’s father stepped in to clap a hand to Daryl’s shoulder.

“Son, I know that we haven’t been the best about setting ground rule for you, and part of that is because they haven’t seemed necessary until now…but you need to understand, if we don’t know where you are, we’re going to worry. A lot. It’s part of the territory. And it’s fine if you want to go hunting or go over to Shane’s, but you need to tell us first.”

“I…I can do that,” Daryl mumbled.

“And Daryl, please don’t ever hesitate to ask us for things. If you needed new shoes, you could have just told us, and we’d have given you the money. I know it’s not…what you’re used to, but it’s the way things are now. Okay?”

Daryl nodded with his lip between his teeth. “Yeah, okay.”

Rick’s parents shared a soulful look, before Sheriff Grimes announced. “Alright, you three. It’s been a long night. Let’s all get to bed.”

Later that morning, before drifting off, Daryl lay with Shane curled possessively around him. He could feel the tension radiating off of the older boy’s body.

“I didn’t think they’d…”

“Yeah. You didn’t think,” Shane spat, before taking a deep, calming breath. “Man, I know you ain’t used to people givin’ two shits about you, but that ain’t the way things are anymore. You got people who care, and you can’t be fuckin’ around with us like that.”

“S’hard,” Daryl whispered, “Keep remindin’ myself, but…”

“I know it is, man. It’s bound to be.”

“I didn’t mean to make y’all mad.”

“Not mad. _Worried_.”

“That too.”

“Yeah, well, I figure you’ve learned your lesson. Right?”

“Mmhmm,” Daryl mumbled in the affirmative, burrowing further into the pillow. “I’m…m’tryin’. Swear I am.”

“I know you are,” Shane murmured into his neck. “It’s fine. It’s all fine now, just get to sleep.”

TWDTWDTWDTWD

With no school that day, Shane woke up sometime after noon, hard as a rock from the growing warmth of the sleeping boy next to him. Ever since Daryl had come to live with the Grimes’, this was the part of the day that Shane liked best, the part where he had Daryl all to himself.

Shane pulled his arm out from underneath Daryl’s body, figuring it would wake him. But when it didn’t, Shane grinned as an idea struck him. He reached an arm slowly around Daryl’s waist and palmed the younger boy’s morning wood through the thin fabric of his boxers.

Daryl let out a fast gush of breath, still very much asleep, and Shane had to fight not to moan aloud. It wasn’t often that he woke before Daryl, and even more seldom that he managed to touch him without Daryl waking with a start. Feeling confident, Shane pushed his hand into Daryl’s boxers and wrapped his fist around the hot length.

Stroking slowly, Shane pressed open-mouth kisses over Daryl’s shoulders and neck. The boy was already wet, leaking over his hand, and hips moving in small motions to seek out the incredible friction. But it wasn’t until Shane started rocking along with him, grinding his throbbing member into the soft globes of Daryl’s ass, that Daryl came awake with a low, confused moan.

The moan quickly became a whimper, and when Shane sped up his hand, Daryl gasped and shook. He’d never woken up this close to coming before.

“You like that, Daryl? You like it when I touch you?” Shane was immediately rasping in his ear. “Does that feel good? I make you feel so good, don’t I Daryl?”

Sensing how close the other boy was to losing it completely, Shane clamped his fist tightly over the base of Daryl’s cock, prompting him to groan deeply.

“Not yet,” Shane whispered against the back of his neck, “Turn on your front for me.”

He felt Daryl’s body tense, but only slightly. “Why?” came the younger Dixon’s response, after a beat.

“Trust me,” Shane urged him, rather than disclosing his plans.

But true to form, Daryl begrudgingly rolled to his front, relaxing to some degree when Shane began to slowly kiss down the length of his back. When he reached his prize, Shane pulled apart the firm mounds of Daryl’s ass, breath scorching over his puckered entrance.

“Shane?” was Daryl’s immediate, distressed whisper.

“Trust me,” Shane murmured again, smiling when his exhaled breath had Daryl shivering from head to toe.

The first lick was anything but tentative. Shane may not have done this before, but between the videos he’d seen online and the fantasies rolling around in his head, he had a pretty good idea of where to start. Shane swiped his tongue long and forcefully over Daryl’s entrance, once and then again, before swirling the hot, wet muscle in circles. It didn’t take long at all before the tension eased from Daryl’s body, and Shane was able to slip inside.

But when he did, the younger boy keened a sinful sound Shane had never heard from him before. Somewhere between affronted and aroused, but desperately curious. Of their own accord, his hips ground down against the bed sheets, and back against Shane’s tongue. Abruptly, Shane pulled him up onto his hands and knees, never stopping his sensual assault. The change in position allowed Shane to delve deeper, and Daryl only moaned louder, oblivious to anything but the pleasure shooting up and down his spine.

Daryl’s cock was an angry, throbbing red underneath him. Bobbing with the slow movements of Shane’s tongue and begging to be touched.

“Shane, please…”

But as soon as the words left his lips, Shane’s torturous touches vanished.

Daryl let out a frustrated groan, “ _Shane_ , why’d you—?”

He was pulled to the side before he could finish the thought, Shane’s head back on the pillow and hands attempting to manhandle Daryl into some god-awful position.

“ _What_?” Daryl huffed, and Shane’s eyes glinted something dangerous.

“Sit on my face,” he demanded a bit breathlessly.

Daryl frowned at him. “The fuck? _No._ I ain’t doin’ that.”

“You liked it. I know you did,” Shane reasoned, reaching over to Daryl’s erection and thumbing the slick head. Daryl’s thighs shook, as did his resolve.

“M’not like that, m’not…”

“What ain’t you like?” Shane murmured, “You don’t like it when I touch you? Don’t like it when I make you come so hard you can’t see straight? Now we both know that ain’t true.”

Daryl whined in frustration, bucking against Shane’s teasing digits.

“Lemme make you feel good, Daryl. Lemme give that to you. _It’s just us_ ,” Shane reminded him, “Now get up here before I make ya finish yourself off.”

Still glaring at Shane indignantly, Daryl allowed the older boy to maneuver him onto his chest, propped precariously on his knees and feeling unduly self conscious. Fortunately for them both, when Shane’s tongue resumed its attack, Daryl’s reservations left the building. He moaned and dropped forward, suddenly very aware that from this angle, he could easily be laying face first against Shane’s cock.

And since at this point it wasn’t Daryl’s first rodeo, he didn’t have to think much before pulling the throbbing length into his mouth. What he lacked in finesse, Daryl made up for in enthusiasm. And soon it was blatantly obvious that Shane was about as hair-trigger as he was. Daryl picked up the pace, taking Shane deeper and flicking his tongue over the sensitive head. Shane’s response was electric.

The jock moaned high and long, rocking up to meet Daryl’s mouth in desperate little motions. But the vibrations of Shane’s moans are what did Daryl in. The tongue stroking inside him was so warm, and wet, and writhing, and suddenly _quivering_ as well…

“Fuck, Shane!” Daryl groaned as his own cock erupted untouched, streaking white over Shane’s chiseled chest. Still trembling with the aftershocks, Daryl thrust a shaking hand over Shane’s needy member, fist flying over slick skin until Shane shouted out his name and came with a jolt.

Come still pulsed out of the reddened tip when Daryl finally rolled to his side, exhausted.

“Fuck,” he sighed, staring up at the ceiling.

“Good fuck?” Shane questioned.

Daryl huffed out a laugh. “Yeah. S’ppose so.”

At that, Shane vaulted on top of him, pulling the blankets back over their bodies and claiming Daryl’s lips in a wanting kiss.

“Shane, are you- _what the hell_?”

The door swung open unceremoniously, and Lori stood open-mouthed in the frame, glaring. She spun on her heel and stalked away before Shane could gather the brain cells for an explanation. Nothing; not even an ‘ _it’s not what it looks like._ ’

He was on his feet and pulling on his sweatpants in a heartbeat, rushing to go after her.

“Shane,” Daryl whispered, sitting up in bed now and pulling the covers up to his neck.

“It’s fine. I’ll take care of it,” Shane told him hurriedly, already on his way out the door. “Just stay here.”

He jogged out the front door, cutting Lori off before she could reach the door of her car. “Lori! Hold up a second.”

She whipped around, “ _Why_?”

“’Cuz m’askin’ ya to,” Shane replied, cocking an eyebrow. “Look, what you saw in there…”

“I know exactly what I saw.”

“Ain’t sayin’ ya didn’t,” Shane countered.

“I can’t _believe_ you Shane. Letting that hick turn you into something you’re not,” Lori hissed. “You’re not _gay,_ Shane.”

“No, I’m not. And neither is he.”

Lori barked a dubious laugh. “Sure. You just make out with all of your buddies.”

“He ain’t my buddy either, Lori. Not everything’s as simple as that. Ya don’t gotta be a bitch about it.”

“Don’t I? I’m just being a friend, Shane. I can’t watch you ruin your life like this.”

“And how the hell is this ruining it?” Shane growled, “Are you honestly that jealous?”

“Jealous?!” Lori practically shrieked, “I have nothing to be jealous about.”

“Oh c’mon, Lori. Don’t think I’ll forget that easily. You turned _me_ down. Long before you and Rick were a thing. And just ‘cuz I didn’t say nothin’ to him when you came onto me drunk a few months back don’t mean I don’t remember.”

“Of course _that’s_ how you remember it,” she scoffed.

“What other way is there?” Shane spat, extending his arms out from his sides. “You tried to cheat on my best friend, with _me,_ and I turned ya the fuck down _._ Ain’t no other way around it. But lemme be clear ‘bout this Lori- if you say anything to anyone about me and Daryl, Rick’s gonna be finding out what happened that night.”

“You…you wouldn’t do that,” Lori replied in a quieter voice, seeming unsure.

Shane actually laughed at that. “Who the hell are you kidding? Of course I would. Thought ya knew me better than that.” He turned to walk back into the house. “M’dead serious Lori. Watch yourself.”

A car door slammed behind him, and Shane slammed the front door for good measure. When he returned to Daryl’s room, the younger Dixon was dressed and braced against the headboard. His crossbow was laying across his lap, and Daryl was stroking it absentmindedly while he waited. Shane figured that bow was probably that closest thing Daryl had to a security blanket.

He shut the door gently and slid into bed alongside Daryl. As soon as Shane was at his side, he realized that Daryl was shivering noticeably, whole body tense.

“Daryl,” Shane murmured, pulling his into a loose hug which the frightened boy didn’t return. “Jesus, you’re shaking. It’s alright, man. She ain’t gonna say anything. I took care of it.”

“Ya don’t _know_ that,” Daryl whispered harshly, “She never even liked me much before. And now…”

“Now, nothing. She ain’t gonna say nothin’ if she knows what’s good for her. I promise you, Daryl. Hey,” he took Daryl’s chin in hand, “Trust me.”

It took a moment, but Daryl’s baby blues searched Shane’s eyes, and seemed to find what they were looking for. He nodded and sighed gruffly, rubbing his palms against his forehead.

“S’all fucked up,” Daryl mumbled, and Shane tried not to take offense.

But as always, his mouth got the better of him. “Man, I don’t get it. Your dad’s in jail, Merle too. So who is it you’re so fuckin’ worried is gonna find out about us? You that ashamed to be with me?”

“Shane, it ain’t like that. Not everything’s about you,” Daryl spat.

“Then what is it, then? Explain it to me. ‘Cuz it’s been weeks upon weeks of this shit and goddamnit, no one’s _forcing_ you to be with me—“

“ _Shane_ ,” Daryl cut him off. “It ain’t about you. It’s about me. Fuck,” he sighed, wrapping his arms around his stomach. “I’ve got a good thing going here, ya know? I don’t want to fuck it up.”

Shane’s eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. “The hell you talkin’ about? We’re fine. I ain’t about to ask ya to prom or somethin’, I just wanna know—“

“For fuck’s sake, Shane. It ain’t us. It’s _me_. You think the Grimes are gonna stand for some faggot livin’ here rent free? I ain’t their blood; they could kick me out whenever they want. And I can’t fuck this up, Shane. Can’t go back to one of those homes, I—“

Daryl was working himself into a panic, and Shane was quick to intervene.

“Daryl, shh,” Shane soothed, pulling him in close and rubbing a hand roughly over his back. “You really think Rick’s folks are like that? They _care_ about you, man. I promise. And they ain’t gonna kick you to the curb for bein’ with me, or some other guy, or a hooker for that matter. I’m tellin’ you, they just want you safe. Happy. Same as me.”

The younger Dixon sucked in a shuddering breath. “You…you really don’t think they’d kick me out?”

“I know they wouldn’t. They ain’t nothin’ like your dad, alright? And anyways, I’m pretty sure they already know about us. Or at least suspect.”

Daryl shot up in alarm. “They what—?”

“ _Relax_ ,” Shane growled, “C’mon, they have to know by now. How many teenage boys have sleepovers every other night? Share a bed?”

“But…” Daryl bit at his lower lip, “They ain’t said nothin’.”

“’Course they haven’t, ‘cuz they _don’t care._ Listen to me, alright? They care about you. That’s all ya gotta know. They wouldn’t kick you out for being with me.”

Daryl nodded mostly to himself, staring off at the wall behind Shane. Eventually, he refocused, seeking out the older boy’s chestnut eyes. “You’re sure?”

Shane shot him a small smile. “Known them my whole life, Daryl. I’m fuckin’ positive. Now let’s go get some breakfast before I starve to death.”


	12. Chapter 12

“Lori’s havin’ a party tonight,” Shane announced as he and Daryl rounded the corner on their way home.

Daryl shot him his coldest glare. “And?”

“And we’re gonna go.”

“Fuck no we ain’t,” Daryl growled, “Why the hell would you  _want_  to anyways?”

“Because fuck  _her_ , that’s why,” Shane said, “Whole school’s gonna be there, my best friend included, and we ain’t gonna sit it out on her behalf. Queen Bitch ain’t gonna say nothin’, alright? Not if she knows what’s good for her.”

Daryl sighed dejectedly, “It ain’t a good idea.”

“Man, s’the best idea I’ve had all day!” Shane tried to joke, and Daryl scrubbed a hand over his face.

“If this all goes to shit, you best know it’ll be your fault,” Daryl warned him.

“Duly noted, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that,” Daryl snapped, “And if she goes and fucks things up, you ain’t getting nothin’ from me either!”

“Oh, you goin’ on your period, Daryl? S’that it?”

“You’re a dick.”

“Yeah, but you knew that goin’ in,” Shane replied with a laugh, “And it just so happens, you like my dick. So go put on a shirt with sleeves and we’ll head over there.”

TWDTWDTWDTWD

When Daryl and Shane arrived at Lori’s house that night, she and Rick were in the midst of a screaming match that would rival any Dixon family brawl. That being said, their argument consisted largely of Lori criticizing Rick’s choice in attire for the evening, and him trying to calm her down.

The end result was the same, with the two of them storming off in opposite directions, both hell bent on going from drunk to drunker. An hour later, when Daryl and Shane were fast-approaching too-drunk-to-drive level, they walked past the den to find Lori and Rick plastered to the wall, apparently attempting to eat each other’s faces. A half hour after that, they could hear the couple screaming at each other again from the other side of the house.

Like a ragged poltergeist hell-bent on avenging its untimely demise, Lori appeared directly behind the couch where Daryl and Shane were sitting.

“Shane, you need to go talk to Rick.”

He had to fight not to roll his eyes. “What’s the problem Lori?”

“He’s really upset and he asked for you,” she hissed.

“And what’s he so upset about that he didn’t come ask me himself?”

“Well I don’t _know_ Shane. If I knew then maybe he wouldn’t have been starting fights with me all night!” Lori snapped.

Shane released an overdramatic sigh. “Fine,” he said, motioning for Daryl to get up with him, “Let’s go.”

“He said just you Shane,” Lori immediately snarled.

“Yeah, I don’t think he’s gonna care if Daryl’s there too.”

“Look, maybe this is something he doesn’t want to tell the whole world about, Shane. I don’t know, he won’t tell _me._ But I think it’d be pretty rude to go inviting the whole school to kick him while he’s down when he just needs his best friend right now,” Lori said with feigned sincerity, still glaring at the two of them.

Shane scrubbed a hand over the back of his head. “Fuck, alright.” He turned to Daryl. “Just get the both of us another drink, okay? This ain’t gonna take long.”

Daryl shot him a knowing smirk, grabbed both their cups, and headed to the kitchen. And with Lori glaring in his retreat, Shane headed to the back of the house in search of Rick. He found him in Lori’s room, milking a beer.

“Hey man, what you doin’ back here?” Shane asked, shutting the door behind him.

“M’grounded,” Rick replied with a snort, downing the rest of his drink in one smooth gulp.

“The hell you mean, grounded?”

“According to Lori, I’m makin’ a fool of myself. _She_ says I gotta ride the party out in here until I’m, and I quote, ‘presentable to the public.’ _Bitch_.”

“So what’s the big problem?” Shane sighed.

“Her! She’s the goddamn problem. S’like I can’t take a dump without her knowing about it,” Rick lamented.

“Man, I know you don’t wanna hear this, but there ain’t a whole lotta ways to deal with that kinda problem.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you either gotta break up with her, or lay down the law. ‘Cuz I can’t remember the last time I saw the two of y’all do anything but fight,” Shane told him.

“Fuck. You’re right,” Rick sighed, hunching over on the bed to stare at his feet.

“Man, when am I not?” Shane laughed. “So this was the big existential crisis that got Lori’s panties in a bunch?”

“I mean...I guess?” Rick replied, looking somewhat confused. “Lori knows about this?”

“Well, she was the one who told me to come back here. Said you were in some kinda state, and you were asking for me.”

Rick sat up straighter at that. “Shane, I never asked her to get you. Last thing I told her to do was leave me alone for the rest of the night.”

Shane’s face paled as he spun for the door. “Shit. Fuck.”

He stormed back out into the party, charging through the kitchen first and then the living room. When Daryl was nowhere to be found, he sought out Lori next, catching her before she walked out onto the porch and hauling her back by the arm.

“Shane, what the hell?” she hissed.

“Where. Is. Daryl?” he growled, not an ounce of amusement in his voice.

Lori’s eyes widened to some degree, but she held her ground.

“Why do you care?” she scoffed. “You scared he’ll go find some other football player to make out with?”

“Lori, I ain’t fuckin’ around,” Shane glowered. “Where is he?”

His grip on Lori’s arm tightened, and he saw the way she winced as the first pang of pain hit her.

“Jesus, Shane. Quit it,” she said, trying to jerk her arm out of his grasp. And when that didn’t work, “He went upstairs with some girl! Okay?!”

Shane released her instantly, near-sprinting away from her and up the stairs. He burst through the first door on his left, and stopped dead in his tracks when he found Daryl crowded into the corner by one of Lori’s harpy friends. The girl was half-naked, kneading her grubby palms into Daryl’s chest despite his obvious squirming and deer-in-headlights expression.

“The fuck is this?” he growled, stomping over and immediately jerking her away from him by the strap of her bra.

“Shit, Shane. It ain’t what it looks like. I didn’t—I _swear_ I—“ Daryl tried to stutter out.

“Stop,” Shane ground out, before rounding on the girl. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

The girl shrugged playfully. “Nothing he didn’t _want_.”

“Yeah, and you decided to come after him all on your own, huh? Nah, I don’t buy it. Not for a fuckin’ second.”

“Look,” the girl said in exasperation. “Lori gave me fifty bucks to come onto him. She was just _so sure_ he was gay, and wanted me to prove it, or whatever. But obviously she was _wrong_. _”_ The girl gave a pointed glance down towards Daryl’s crotch, before turning and walking right out the door.

Shane turned back to Daryl slowly, looking the boy over. He was glaring down at his own feet, arms wrapped around his body and bottom lip quivering between his teeth.

“Daryl...” Shane began lowly, and blue, slightly watery eyes darted up to meet him.

“She- she said you were sick and that ya needed me, and- and- then we got up here and she just started takin’ shit off and Shane I never woulda done anything okay? I _swear_ , it just—“

“You’re hard,” Shane commented, cutting Daryl off, and the younger boy blushed furiously.

“Didn’t—didn’t mean to...”

“You’re allowed to like both,” Shane said in a softer tone, grazing his fingertips over Daryl’s forearm. “I do.”

Daryl eyed him beseechingly. “Dunno what I like...only ever been with you, Shane.”

Shane’s eyes glinted something dangerous at that, and he shot Daryl a small smile. “Wait here, alright? I’ll be back in a minute.”

Before Daryl could protest, Shane was out the door. It only took him a second to spot Lori in the crowd, and he dragged her seamlessly back to the room where Rick was still hiding out and practically threw her inside.

“Look. I’ve tried my fuckin’ best to stay out of this with you two. And I keep my mouth shut. But it’s gone too fuckin’ far, alright?” Shane growled, pacing the room.

“Shane, what...?” Rick tried, but the football player was far from finished.

“You wanna know what your stupid bitch of a girlfriend just did? She walked in on me and Daryl last week. And tonight, she sent one of her slut friends after Daryl, _lied_ about you needing me, to prove to the whole school that Daryl was gay!”

“Rick, he’s obviously lying,” Lori said, and it took every ounce of Shane’s self-control not to shove her to the ground.

“ _Fuck that_ ,” he snarled, “I _told_ you he meant somethin’ to me. And you pay that whore _fifty dollars_ to fuck that up for me?! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Any confusion in Rick’s features had faded to barely-concealed fury. “Lori...is this true?”

Lori’s eyes darted between the two of them feverishly. “I didn’t—I don’t...” she tried, and then folded, “You know what, yes! I paid her! And it’s for your own good, Shane. I’m not going to watch that redneck fag _confuse_ you into being with him. You’re better than that, Shane. And you should at least be with a girl who’ll graduate high school!”

Shane’s whole face went dark. “With a girl...what, a girl like you, Lori? Ya know I wouldn’t have said anything. Really wouldn’t have, if you’d just kept your damn mouth shut. But Rick—“

“I don’t need to hear it,” Rick interrupted, arms crossed over his chest and glaring in Lori’s directions. “Whatever it is, it don’t matter. ‘Cuz me and you, Lori? We’re done. You fuckin’ disgust me.”

“ _I_ disgust you?! Daryl—!”

“Daryl’s _family_ to me. And you fuckin’ know it,” Rick snarled, “How dare you call Daryl a redneck when you’re the one spouting all this hateful bullshit. I don’t give a fuck who Daryl or Shane are with. ‘Cuz I love ‘em either way, you get it? They’re my brothers. But you think you have the right to fuck things up for them... _fuck_ that, Lori. And fuck you. We’re through.”

“You don’t get to decide that, Rick. You can’t just come in here and—“

“Oh it’s been fucking decided!” Rick shouted in her face. “And ya know how you paid that senior to steal the answers to your finals last year? The answers you made me keep because you were too scared to have them at your house? Well if I hear anything about Shane and Daryl around school, if you ever try to fuck with them again, the principal’s gonna be finding out ‘bout that. Let’s see ya try to get into Yale after getting expelled for cheating. We _understand_ each other, Lori? Are you fuckin’ listening?”

Lori stood shocked into silence, tears streaming down her face. “Yes,” she whispered.

Rick gave Shane a curt nod before the two of them left the room.  

TWDTWDTWDTWD

When Shane came back upstairs, Daryl was hovering awkwardly in the corner, still cursing himself silently. For a few minutes there, he hadn’t been entirely sure Shane would come back at all, and relief hit him like a freight train. Except, when Shane swung that door open and strode into the room, he had company. She was a girl Daryl recognized from school, with blonde hair and blue eyes and tan skin, encompassing pretty much everything his family had ever told him he didn’t deserve.

The door had been shut and locked before Daryl had recovered from the surprise.

“Now this girl here, she’ll do whatever you want, Daryl. What’s it gonna be?” Shane said slowly, watching Daryl with the predatory eyes of a hunter corralling his prize beast forward.

Shane stepped closer to him, and said under his breath, “I trust her, alright? She ain’t never opened her mouth before, and she ain’t gonna do it now. So how do you want her, Daryl? You wanna see what it’s like with a girl?”

“I...” Daryl croaked out, swallowing thickly, “ _You_ want this?”

“Kinda like the idea of watching you,” Shane whispered. “So what’s it gonna be? You wanna lose your virginity to her? Or you wanna wait...?”

Daryl’s eyes shifted back and forth. “I don’t even know her,” he mumbled after a long pause, and Shane nodded his understanding.

“Alright,” Shane replied at his normal volume, “Then she won’t fuck you. You can take her mouth, and I’ll take her ass. You alright with that?”

Daryl gave him a small, confused shrug, and looked over to the girl to find her smiling shrewdly. At Shane’s slight crook of the finger, Daryl moved towards her, perpetually confused over whether this was a punishment or a reward.

Shane took the lead, moving towards the girl and snatching her lips in a dominating kiss. Daryl watched with a sense of shocked awe. He knew what it felt like to have Shane handle him like it was his job, be molded to the older boy’s will. But it had never occurred to him just how arousing it would be to see the jock in action. Shane broke for air, and he motioned for Daryl to take his place.

With only a moment’s of reluctance, Daryl moved in, kissing her with a hell of a lot more hesitancy than Shane had. He felt Shane move behind him, hands trailing over his waist, and when at the same time the girl nipped at his lip, Daryl couldn’t suppress a low groan.

Abruptly, the girl was jerked away from him, and Daryl’s eyes snapped open.

“Hope you enjoyed his mouth, darlin’, ‘cuz that’s all you’ll be getting of it,” Shane said firmly, before ripping his shirt over his head and shucking it to the side. Daryl watched as the girl shimmied out of her dress, advancing towards him all the while.

“Leave his shirt,” Shane murmured into the girl’s ear when she reached for Daryl’s collar. “He ain’t takin’ it off, so don’t even try.” Shane and Daryl locked eyes briefly, and the younger Dixon understood immediately what Shane was really saying. _She doesn’t get to see you like that. That’s for me._

Instead, the nameless girl jerked open his belt and shoved his jeans to the ground. She led him by his collar back towards the bed, and Daryl had to focus hard on the ground to keep from trembling with the unfamiliarity of it all. Things were moving fast, and the world was getting dizzying. But he’d be lying if he tried to claim he wasn’t hard as steel.

His body responded to Shane’s demands before his brain had even processed them.

“Kneel by the headboard, Daryl. Good. Now darlin’, why don’t you get on your hands and knees for him and show him how good you are at suckin’ cock?”

And even as the girl crawled towards him, Daryl couldn’t keep his eyes off of the lean planes of Shane’s body, or the surety in his hands when he grabbed the girl by the hips and held her in place. Daryl felt sharp fingernails rake up his thighs, and he looked down just in time to see the girl swallow his swollen cock down to the hilt.

“ _Oh shit_ ,” Daryl let out in a rush of air, and Shane only smirked at him. He watched Shane rip open a condom with his teeth, and slide it onto his erection. Daryl felt a brief flicker of pleasure in knowing that this girl wasn’t getting Shane skin to skin.

She began to work her tongue slowly up and down his cock, and Daryl moaned softly. Shane’s eyes never left his, even as he slid into the girl abruptly. The impact of it made the girl moan, and the vibrations of her moan had Daryl whimpering broken curses.

“Fuck, that’s it sweetheart,” Shane groaned as he started to thrust slowly, “Suck him good for me. Take him deep.”

Shane fucked into her at a pace that started off slow and toe-curling but quickly became brutal, flesh slapping wildly when every move forwards had her mouth plunging down Daryl’s throbbing length.

Shane kept Daryl’s eye as he rubbed his hands up and down the girl’s back, slapped her ass just for the hell of it.

“Yeah, you like that Daryl?” Shane asked him breathlessly, and the younger Dixon couldn’t help but think that passersby would likely assume Shane was fucking _him_ rather than _her._ “That feel good? Fuck, look at you. Can’t even talk, can you? Bet he’s leaking like a faucet, huh sweetheart?”

Shane slapped the girl’s ass again, and she moaned gratefully.

“Tell me, Daryl. Tell me how good it feels,” Shane demanded, and Daryl finally recognized what this was _really_ about.

“S’good,” Daryl gasped, trying to get his bearings, “Her mouth’s...fuck. Oughta reward her for it, dontcha think?”

Shane grinned lewdly. “What kinda reward, Daryl?”

Daryl thread his fingers through the girl’s yellow hair, guiding her movements.

“Fuck her harder,” Daryl gruffly demanded, and he could see the way Shane’s eyes dilated with arousal. His thrusts quickly became savage, fingers digging into the girl’s hips for leverage. And watching Shane lose himself in the incredible friction, watching his eyes roll back and his chest heave with each breath, it was more than enough to set Daryl over the edge.

“Gonna come,” Daryl gasped, “Fuck, fuck Shane, oh fuck, I...”

He came torrents down the girl’s throat, and both boys watched with a sick fascination as she swallowed greedily, eyes still eerily innocent. When the sensation became too much, Daryl finally pulled away from her gently, and tried to stop his thighs from shaking quite so obviously.

“C’mere,” Shane instantly ordered, and licked his lips once Daryl was finally close enough to touch. One of Shane’s hands shot out and dragged Daryl forward, and when Shane captured the younger boy’s lips in his own, his world righted. The girl’s pussy was wet and tight and hot around him, but the slightest brush from Daryl’s lips, and Shane had to catch himself from coming hard.

Shane canted his hips faster, harder, until the girl was coming with a loud moan and writhing invitingly on the bed. He could feel himself losing control, but then Daryl’s lips were at his ear.

“Don’t come in her,” the younger boy said lowly, pleaded really. And Shane didn’t have to ask why.

“This bitch, she’s nothin’ to me. Nothin’ compared to you and me. You get me?” Shane promised him softly. You’re mine first, Daryl. _Mine_.”

Shane pulled out of her and whipped off the condom, fist flying over his fevered flesh. His knees nearly buckled when Daryl’s fingers tangled with his to help him along.

“Fuck,” Shane groaned. “Say it, Daryl. I wanna hear you say it.”

“M’yours Shane,” Daryl murmured without any hesitation.

Shane whimpered lowly, and closed his eyes as he focused on the sensation of Daryl’s hand on his cock, and his lips on the side of his neck.

“Yours,” Daryl growled one last time, and Shane came with a shout, streaking white over the girl’s back as she lay there complacently.

Sitting back on his ankles, Shane panted through the aftershocks while Daryl watched him fixedly. He pulled the archer towards him, running his hands up and down his back in soothing circles.

“Mine,” Shane whispered again. Daryl could only nod tiredly into the crook of Shane’s neck, and the older boy smiled.


	13. Chapter 13

Shane and Daryl spent the night in the latter’s truck, a sweaty heap curled comfortably together, with a blanket warding off the brisk spring air, and Rick sprawled across the vinyl seating in the interior. At Rick’s behest, they dropped him off on the other side of town, since the teen was determined to work out his frustration with as many of Shane’s cheerleader fan girls it took to make him forget all about Lori and her bullshit. Daryl and Shane figured they’d give him a good eight hours then come corral him back home. He deserved that, at the very least.

Instead of retiring immediately back to the Grimes’ house, Daryl and Shane rode around town in companionable silence, watching the uninhabited early-morning world roll by their windows.

With his eyes shut and all his attention fixated on the slow rumble of the truck’s engine, Shane felt, more than saw, Daryl’s gaze on the side of the face. He felt the stress and uncertainty in Daryl’s form. Keeping his eyes closed, Shane paid careful attention to the stutter in his partner’s breathing as the boy tried and failed to say whatever was on his mind. So Shane reached out a hand between them, petting the skin at Daryl’s hips and letting him figure it out in his own time.

“What we did last night...” Daryl finally began, and Shane wasn’t remotely surprised. Then he corrected himself, “What _you_ did, to that girl...is...is that how you wish things were with me? Is that how you—is that how you wanna...fuck me?”

It wasn’t quite what Shane had expected, so he took the time to softly stroke Daryl’s neck before answering. “I don’t wanna fuck you, Daryl.”

He saw the flash of hurt pass across Daryl’s eyes, and immediately wanted to kick himself in the shins for his obvious mistake.

“I _want_ you,” Shane amended, “But I don’t wanna fuck you, Daryl. Fuck ain’t the right word.”

“So what...’make love’?” Daryl asked him, spitting out the words as if they were sour in his mouth.

“That’s closer, but it still ain’t quite right.”

“What, then?”

“I wanna...I wanna love on you. Wanna make you feel good. Make you mine. That bitch last night? She was nothin’ to me. Couldn’t have given less of a shit whether she got off. But you’re different, man. Shit with you is different. You gotta know that by now.”

Daryl brooded on that for a moment, gnawing at his lip and staring up at the ceiling. “I dunno if I’m ever gonna be able to do... _that_ , for you,” he eventually muttered. _Even for you_ , Shane heard.

Shane breathed out a quiet laugh. “Well, am I askin’ ya to?”

Daryl frowned harder at the road. “...No.”

“Then stop fuckin’ worrying!” Shane soothed him jokingly, “If I’d been in this to hit it and quit it, I woulda given up months ago, Daryl. And it ain’t like my needs ain’t being met, one way or another.”

For once, Daryl looked him straight in the eye, lips immobile but expression practically screaming: _Are you sure?_

And if experience had taught him anything, Shane knew that with Daryl Dixon, actions spoke louder than words. With a plan in mind, Shane abruptly asked, “So who gives better head?”

“You know you do, Shane,” Daryl sighed with only a hint of amusement in his voice, and cheeks already coloring to an enticing rosy hue.

Shane shot him one of his rare smiles, both devious and affectionate. “That was the right fuckin’ answer.”

Eyes darting back to Shane, Daryl suddenly realized that Shane had been subtly scooting towards him as they talked, and was now seated only inches away from him on the slick seats.

“Shane, what are you—“

“You know exactly what I’m doin’, Daryl,” Shane interrupted, making the intent of his statement all the more obvious when he reached over to the younger boy’s lap.

Daryl sucked in a sharp breath, and his knuckles went white as he clutched the wheel.

“I’m...m’drivin’,” Daryl argued weakly, but he couldn’t hide his growling bulge from Shane’s knowing hands.

“I see that,” Shane murmured, now stroking Daryl’s denim-clad erection outright. “And you’re doin’ such a good job of it. Thought I might show my appreciation.”

“But, but I—“

“There ain’t no one around,” Shane drawled lowly, “And if you’re so sure I give the best head, m’thinkin’ I oughta give ya what you been wantin’ so badly. Since last night I made ya go without.”

“Yeah,” Daryl whispered, and one hand met Shane’s at his waist, pushing him to flick open his belt. “Fuck...”

“Just keep those pretty eyes on the road, Daryl,” Shane said as he began to stroke the teen slowly, “I ain’t lookin’ to be found dead with your dick in my mouth.”

Daryl snorted out a ludicrous noise that quickly became a moan when Shane’s mouth descended seamlessly down onto his aching cock.

The sun still hadn’t managed to rise much past the tops of the trees, and they were travelling down a dirt road that led into a seemingly uninhabited neck of the woods, but Daryl couldn’t help but glance around wildly as Shane’s tongue began to lave and writhe. The scorching, slick heat was already too much, and Daryl had to fight not to let his eyes slam shut.

“Shane, fuck Shane,” Daryl whimpered, after a particularly deep pot-hole lodged his cock as deep in Shane’s throat as it would go.

In response, Shane moaned around his length, and wanted to smile widely when Daryl’s hips gave a plaintive buck and the teen let out a particularly high-pitched whine.

Daryl wanted desperately to watch what Shane was doing to him, to thread his fingers in Shane’s dark locks and fuck up into that welcoming mouth until he saw stars. But every twist of the road came out of nowhere, and even a momentary lapse in attention could get them both killed. His pants and moans filled the small space of the truck bed, and Daryl’s whole body rocked forward in tiny increments to accompany Shane’s brutal pace.

“Jesus fuck,” Daryl moaned, “Shane, Jesus, _Shane_!”

He was hanging from the precipice, entire body pulled tight and begging to be snapped in half. But then with one final flick of his tongue over Daryl’s reddened head, Shane pulled off with a pop, licking his lips lewdly and watching Daryl pant and groan in frustration without an ounce of shame.

“Shane, why—?”

But Daryl’s answered the question for himself when Shane leaned down low in the seat, and in a practiced move, unsheathed his heavy cock and began to fist himself leisurely.

“Shane—“

“Keep driving,” Shane demanded. He propped one leg up on the dash, shimmying his jeans down until they sat just under his hips.

“Fuckin’ _tease_ ,” Daryl complained begrudgingly, cock spit-slick and aching, still pointing up towards his belly button.

“Ain’t teasin’ nothin’,” Shane grunted, hand moving faster over his own thick flesh, “You’ll get yours. Ain’t polite to be selfish, Daryl. Now- eyes on the road.”

Out of his periphery, Daryl watched as Shane licked a wet stripe over his hand, and then continued to stroke himself hard and fast, keeping his eyes fixed on Daryl’s flushed face. Every groan Shane let loose had Daryl’s cock twitching painfully, and when Shane began to rock his hips up to meet his hand, Daryl couldn’t suppress his low whimper.

“Yeah, you like that, don’t you Daryl?” Shane rumbled, “You fuckin’ love watchin’ me. Love it when I make you wait.”

He rubbed his palm rapidly over the head, grunting with every pass.

“Someday you’re gonna let me tie you up. Get you panting and moaning, can’t even touch yourself, just gotta wait for me to get you off. But only if you’re good, huh? Only if you make a bunch of those sexy little noises I like, and tell me how bad you want it. Bet you’d fuckin’ love that, wouldn’t you Daryl? Splayed out for me. _Fuck._ ”

Daryl’s cock jumped and throbbed along with the visual Shane was painting, and he had to bite at his lower lip hard to keep from begging the way he wanted to. He wasn’t the kind of guy who’d want... _that_...he just wasn’t. Dixons didn’t do that shit. But he couldn’t really deny that his dick fucking _loved_ it.

“How ya gonna get me off? If I can’t move, or touch ya?” Daryl asked quietly. Even from the corner of his eye, he couldn’t ignore the way Shane’s grin grew ten sizes when he realized he’d managed to engage the younger boy.

“Mmm I’d start by gettin’ me some nice, soft rope. The kind made outta leather, or silk. I’d bring you back to my place, got the house all to ourselves, and I’d lay you out on my bed. On your back- wanna see ya. I’d tie you up real pretty for me. First your hands, up above your head. Then your legs, spread wide as they’ll go. Then I’d get that sexy cock of yours too, wrap it up nice and pretty. Yeah, that way I’d have ya hard and achin’ for as long as I wanted. _Fuck_ , bet you’d love that, huh Daryl? Could have at ya for _hours_ that way,” Shane moaned anew at his own words, his own erection an angry red under his ministrations.

“What if—what if I needed to come?” Daryl whispered, eyes plastered on the road in front of them. He knew he couldn’t take this much longer.

“Fuck, I wouldn’t let ya. Not ‘til you’re beggin’ for it- _Please, Shane. Please let me come._ Then I’d shove my fingers up that pert little ass of yours, fuck you ‘til you’re _screaming_. Ah, fuck. Fuck, Daryl. M’gonna come. Gonna come on your fuckin’ dash, man. Ah, Daryl. _Fuck!_ ”

Streaks of white erupted from Shane’s cock as he groaned and shook, painting the dash in his spunk. When the lights behind his eyes finally dimmed, Shane glanced over at Daryl, and found him rocking involuntarily into the air, panting and gripping the wheel hard enough to snap the metal in two.

“Shane, Shane, _c’mon_...” Daryl mumbled.

“Pull over,” Shane ordered gruffly, and Daryl was all to enthusiastic to obey, nearly flipping the car in his rush to get them to the side of the road. As soon as he’d shifted to park, he practically launched himself at Shane, but the larger boy pushed him back with two hands, and laughed when Daryl could only let out a needy whine.

“Not so fast. Out of the car, Daryl.”

In his desperate state, it only took Daryl a moment’s hesitation to comply, shuffling out of the vehicle and standing uncertainly at its head. His cock twitched in the open air, throbbing in Shane’s direction as the older boy rounded the truck to stand directly in front of him.

“Thattaboy, now I want you to lean back against the hood and watch what I do to you,” Shane growled, sinking down to his knees. Daryl panted above him, blue eyes set on Shane’s predatory snarl. “You’re mine. And I take good care of what’s mine.”

He swallowed Daryl back down, and the younger Dixon’s brain shorted out, blinded by the sheer relief of finally earning Shane’s touch. Pleasure flooded his system, and every second he’d had to watch and wait came back to Daryl all at once, shoving him helplessly towards release.

“Shane, I’m gonna, Shane, _Shane_!” Daryl groaned, before coming hard down the jock’s throat, moaning loudly up at the sky and hardly caring who heard. Leaning back on his elbows against the hood, it took Daryl a good minute to wrench open his eyes. And when he did, Shane was watching him closely, greedily licking his lips in search of any trace of Daryl.

Shane finally moved in to kiss Daryl firmly, rolling the younger boy’s taste around in both of their mouths.

“Let’s get you home.”

TWDTWDTWDTWD

Rick wasn’t too hard to locate. And as it turned out, he hadn’t been successful in bagging any of the suitable girls Shane had pointed out to him. They returned home without any lecture or needless panic, since for once, the Grimes had known _exactly_ where their kids were, if not what they were doing there.

Rick swiftly slipped into his room and slammed the door shut, determined to wallow for a good while, without the butting in of Shane, Daryl, or least of all his parents. And Shane followed Daryl loyally inside, earning a look from Sheriff Grimes that was made up of neither surprise nor disgust, just a subtle sort of contentment and maybe curiosity. He caught Shane’s eye, and they shared a brief nod. Shane knew that there was an awkward talk looming in his imminent future, but figured he ought to count himself lucky that he’d put it off for this long.

They finished up their homework, played video games, and generally just bummed around the house until Mrs. Grimes called everyone for dinner. And sitting around the table, with things finally feeling as normal as could be, the doorbell rang once. And then again. And then six times in succession.

Sheriff Grimes let out an exasperated sigh and went to answer the door.

When it swung open, Rick’s father had only the time to sputter a frustrated “What the—?!” before the man pushed past him into the house and strode right up to the dining room table. He had a broad build, and a grin that would have been smug even at the foot of God, pleading entry to those pearly gates. His hair was buzzed short and brown, and his eyes were as blue as the Georgia sky. 

“Now, how’s about a hug for your big brother, Darleena?”


	14. Chapter 14

Five sets of eyes were fixated on him, but all Daryl could register was that Merle was here. _Home_.

He smiled hard, face lighting up in a way Shane seldom saw as the younger boy realized that everyone in the world he cared about was right here, all in the same room. And things were good. How could they not be, when everyone was home again, and he actually had a home to call his own.

Daryl jumped up out of his seat and nearly stumbled in his rush to reach his big brother, wrapping his arms around him and squeezing hard. It occurred to him that before Shane, Merle was pretty much the only person he’d ever touched in a way that bordered on affectionate, even neutral. The older Dixon wasn’t quite as enthusiastic, but he did pat Daryl twice on the back before pushing Daryl roughly away by the shoulder, and making a show of looking him over.

“You been lettin’ them dress ya, too?” Merle mocked, frowning at Daryl’s ensemble. And it was true; most of what Daryl wore these days had been procured by Rick’s mother. The days of fraying shirts and jeans that were more hole than denim were behind him. And his sleeveless flannels, though never forgotten, were reserved for the days he went out hunting. But between the judging look on Merle’s face, and his offended tone, Daryl blushed hard.

“S’just clothes,” Daryl mumbled, shrugging and trying to seem nonchalant about it.

“The hell it is,” Merle growled, and Daryl knew at that moment that any chance for a peaceful, happy reunion had just been squashed. “The fuck you doin’ playing house with the goddamn Sheriff?”

“Now, Merle…” Sheriff Grimes tried to mediate. Because yes, of course Rick’s dad knew exactly who had just barged through his front door. He was the man who’d put Merle inside to begin with.

It was only a second later that Daryl realized no, this wasn’t _Merle’s_ home. Not yet and maybe not ever. And that’s when things started to go downhill fast.

“What the fuck is this, Daryl? I finally get outta lock up and I hear you let dad get arrested, and now you’re shacking up with the asshole who put him away?” Merle snapped. Shane bounced to his feet, looking the angriest of the bunch, and Daryl quickly stepped in front of him, trying to avoid an all-out brawl.

“I didn’t _let_ him do nothin’,” Daryl tried to defend, but Merle wasn’t having it.

“He’s your blood, boy. Thought I taught you better than that.” And Shane hated most of all how Merle’s words had Daryl glancing guiltily at his own feet, like he’d done something wrong. Like he should have protected the man who’d been beating him for years, forcing him to live in perpetual fear.

“He deserved what he got and then some,” Shane interrupted, sidestepping Daryl and getting up into the elder Dixon’s face.

“And who the fuck are you?” Merle ground out, eyes narrowing.

“Shane fuckin’ Walsh, that’s who,” Shane spat, teeth bared. “Your daddy’s an evil son of a bitch and you know it. It’s a fuckin’ blessing to the world that he’s finally behind bars.”

“You lettin’ your boyfriend fight your battles for you?” Merle mocked, eyes falling back on his baby brother. “Christ, I’m gone for a few months, and all of the sudden you’re on your back for any old cock, huh boy? Thought you’d hold out a little longer before lettin’ some asshole call you his _bitch_.” Merle spat out the last word, then literally spat in Shane’s face.

Daryl was standing to the side, frozen in something between shock and fear. But unfortunately for everyone, Shane wasn’t the least bit stuck. He launched at Merle like a predatory cat striking its pray, knocking the larger man to the ground, connecting knuckles with his jaw, and hardly flinching when Merle fought back.

In a flurry of motion, Rick and his father were prying Shane and Merle apart, the Sheriff fighting to get the older man out the door while Rick held his best friend in a mighty bear hug, trying to keep him calm. Neither was having much success.

“No! No, fuck that,” Merle was shouting. “He’s my fuckin’ brother and he’s coming with me.”

“He ain’t goin’ nowhere with you, ya stupid fucker!” Shane yelled right back.

“Daryl,” Merle said in a tone slightly less harsh, “Daleena, get in the truck, boy. S’time to go.”

And then all eyes fell on the younger Dixon once more, and he visibly squirmed.

“ _Daryl_ ,” Merle said again, looking somewhat pained that his younger brother hadn’t immediately obeyed. Enough so that when Daryl finally spoke up, he couldn’t keep his eyes off the ground.

“Can’t go with you,” Daryl mumbled. “Dad…he lost custody. The Grimes are my guardians, now. I gotta stay.”

It was a weak argument at best. And Shane loathed how Daryl played it off like he _had_ to be here, rather than _wanted_ to. But he figured that was something the two of them could work out in private, once Merle was gone for good.

Merle shook off the Sheriff’s hands roughly, staring at Daryl like the boy had slapped him in the face.

Abruptly, he seemed to collect himself. “Yeah. We’ll see about that.”

Merle spat to the side, shot one last hateful glare in Shane’s direction, then spun on his heel and was out the door. Nobody spoke, not until the rumbling groan of Merle’s truck had faded into the distance.

“Daryl,” Rick’s mother breathed, but he cut her off with a rushed, “M’sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, son,” Sheriff Grimes told him.

“Yeah. Still my brother though. Wish I could say he ain’t usually like that, but…you know him.”

“I do. And I know you’re nothing like him.”

Daryl barked out a hoarse, incredulous laugh. “Sure,” he rasped, like he didn’t believe it one bit.

“In the morning I’ll get an APB out on him,” the Sheriff mused, “Get some eyes and ears pointed in his direction. At the very least, he won’t be able to barge in on us like that again.”

“Y’ain’t gonna send him back to prison?” Daryl whispered, panic dripping down his spine. “He didn’t even hurt nothin’! He was just pissed he came back to an empty house. S’not his fault.”

“By no means am I going to _try_ to arrest your brother for anything, Daryl. But if he shows up here like that again, threatens this family, I can’t promise—“

“He won’t!” Daryl interjected fiercely, “He won’t, sir. I’ll talk to him.”

“And you’ll understand if I’m not too comfortable having him over to this house,” Rick’s father added. And even though he was only being fair, Daryl’s chest constricted painfully.

“Yeah…I…I get that. I’ll just…I’m gonna go to bed. M’sorry ‘bout all this. I…”

At a loss for words, Daryl finally stalked off to his bedroom. And in all the time Shane had known him, he realized then that he’d never seen Daryl hang his head quite so mournfully.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

Shane allowed Daryl to stew in his juices for much longer than the latter expected. It was more than an hour later when the jock knocked quietly on his door, then slipped inside without waiting for a response. He found the younger Dixon hunched over in the space between the wall and his bed, tinkering with his crossbow angrily.

“Hey,” Shane muttered cautiously, keeping a good distance from Daryl and sitting down on the opposite side of the bed. “Y’alright?”

“Mmm,” Daryl grunted noncommittally, still toying with his bow, never quite looking up.

“I’m sorry ‘bout tonight,” Shane tried. “Ain’t exactly how I wanted to meet your brother, if and when I did. But he started spoutin’ that stuff ‘bout your dad and I just…lost it. Know I did.” The only indication that Daryl was listening was the infinitesimal pause of his hands. “You mad?”

Daryl heaved out a sigh that he must have pulled from the balls of his feet. “Nah. Wasn’t…” he looked up at Shane, “Wasn’t your fault. Merle’s a dick. Just…I thought he’d be happy to see me, ya know?”

Shane moved to sit next to Daryl on the floor, halting the other boy’s incessant tinkering.

“He _was_ happy to see you, Daryl. Anyone could see that. S’why he wanted you to go with him. He just let the other stuff get in the way.”

Daryl nodded stiffly, staring off at the opposite wall. “He knew about us,” Daryl whispered.

“Didn’t _know_ a damn thing,” Shane said decidedly, “Guessed, maybe. But more likely he was just tryin’ to push your buttons.”

Daryl was gnawing at the reddened skin of his thumb. “It worked,” he mumbled around the appendage.

And then Shane did something that completely surprised him. He leaned towards forward, and pressed his lips gently to Daryl’s temple, lingering for a moment before pulling back to take in the younger boy’s expression. Kissing was something the two of them hardly ever engaged in without an end game. They kissed before they got each other off, kissed _while_ they got each other off, but rarely as an isolated event. And not once had Shane kissed him as tenderly as that.

When they lay together, they didn’t cuddle. They slept as separate as could be- at least to start out- but always managed to drift towards one another as the night wore on. They did not hold hands. They refused to utter those three dangerous words. Shane and Daryl always stayed close, but not so close that the average set of judging eyes might put two and two together. To any outsider, they were close friends. Friends who spent all their time together, whose eyes were always fixed on the other’s, and who could communicate with a look, but friends nonetheless.

What they had together worked. It was enough. Or at least Daryl had thought it was enough, until Shane kissed him in that gentle way, both an apology and an endearment.

“M’kinda tired,” Daryl rasped, and Shane nodded his understanding, stripping economically and slipping into bed. Daryl flicked off the lights and joined him. But instead of keeping to his side, maintaining that invisible boundary that would always dissipate late at night, Daryl squirmed across the bed until he and Shane were pressed together. And though the other boy seemed surprised, he certainly didn’t protest.

Shane’s hand began to rub slow circles on Daryl’s back, and Daryl thought that maybe seeking a different kind of comfort from Shane wouldn’t be so bad, every once in a while. They fell asleep just like that, with Daryl’s head on Shane’s bare chest.

It was only after several hours of peace that the heat really hit.

Daryl awoke hard against Shane’s leg. The room was an iridescent black around him, and Shane’s breathing was slow and even. He wasn’t quite sure what he’d been dreaming about, what brought this on. But it must have been good, because the fabric of his boxers was already soaked through. And he thought briefly of taking care of himself quickly, going back to sleep. But then Daryl had a much better idea.

He slid his hand cautiously into Shane’s boxers, pleased to find the older boy already half-hard from sleep. Daryl stroked his fingers carefully over the head, tracing the vein at the underside and rolling his heavy balls until they were both throbbing in the same demanding rhythm. Even though Daryl felt like a pervert for thinking it, touching Shane while he was sleeping was a heady rush. It was easier too, in a lot of ways, to be able to touch without the consequences, and without Shane’s heated gaze on him the entire time. But it wasn’t everything he wanted.

Daryl leaned up on his elbows and kissed Shane hard. The other boy responded, after a beat, with a groggy moan. But his lips were moving with Daryl’s now, and the younger boy couldn’t help but enjoy having Shane like this, confused and half-awake. Daryl relished the power, the chance to do the giving for once.

Shane still hadn’t managed to open his eyes when Daryl roughly pulled the other boy onto his side, so they were facing each other in bed. His mouth stayed on Shane’s as Daryl wedged their bodies together, taking both their cocks in hand and stroking in slow, easy movements. With Shane usually being the talkative one, but now too dazed to participate, the room was filled with the heavy sounds of their panting. For once, it was Shane who buried his face in Daryl’s neck, fingers tangling in the other boy’s shirt as he held on for the ride.

Daryl’s free hand toyed with the hair at the back of Shane’s neck, and brushed rough calluses over the sensitive skin at his sides. It didn’t take long at all for Shane’s hips to begin canting forward, blindly seeking out the tight grip of Daryl’s fist. The younger Dixon licked a stripe up Shane’s neck, tugged gently at an earlobe with his teeth, and with several sharp gasps, Shane was coming between them.

It was only as that first wave of toe-curling pleasure pulsed through his body that Shane finally opened his eyes, gazing into Daryl’s baby blues with an expression of both surprise and warmth.

“D- _Daryl_ ,” Shane whimpered. And fuck, that right there… that sent Daryl over the edge with a jolt.

“Fuck, Shane,” Daryl finally moaned as come pumped over his hand. He struggled to catch his breath. Afterwards, Shane pressed his forehead into Daryl’s, sharing air and not caring much about the mess between them. But even as Shane fell back asleep cradled against his chest, Daryl’s mind just wouldn’t settle. What should have been a moment of serene bliss only seemed to spur the frightening, vicious loops of thoughts rolling around in his mind.

Maybe back when this all started, when he and Shane had just been using each other to get off, and didn’t trust the other as far as he could throw him…maybe then, Merle might have understood. He’d told Daryl before how the guys in prison… _found_ each other from time to time. And his big brother had played it off like it was only natural, needing the comfort of another body while you were inside. Though to be fair, Macon, Georgia wasn’t exactly a prison—though many of its citizens might argue otherwise. He hadn’t picked Shane as a last resort.

And what they’d become, what he and Shane had just _done_ , that was pretty far from the wry, meaningless fucks Merle had described. They weren’t just screwing around anymore. There was no more experimenting. He and Shane were as together as two people could be, and lucky enough to have a family that accepted that, or at least actively ignored it. The problem was: the Grimes were not his family. They’d taken him in when no one else would have, and treated him well, sure. But they weren’t blood.

And the only blood Daryl did have, the only person who’d _always_ called him brother, would never accept what he’d become. Daryl had seen the way Merle and Shane glared at one another right from the start. Even if Merle didn’t know the specifics, that right there had been a fight for dominance. They may as well have both pissed on his leg, because it was clear to anyone with eyes that the two of them were marking their claim.

Daryl wasn’t too keen on belonging to either of them. But he knew how this was going to go. Pick one, or pick neither, but you can’t have your cake and eat it too. Things had been going too well for too long, and that wasn’t the Dixon way.

For the first time in months, not even the steady warmth of Shane beside him could lull Daryl to sleep.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

When Shane walked out of school the next afternoon, Merle was leaning up against Daryl’s truck, and the jock had immediate flashbacks to his and Daryl’s first honest-to-god conversation. The first that hadn’t ended in a fist fight. He wasn’t so sure he’d be able to reenact that with Daryl’s older counterpart.

“Well, look who it is,” Merle cooed as he got closer, “Mr. Big Cock on Campus. Bet you’re real fuckin’ proud of yourself for getting a hit in last night, huh boy? Lemme tell ya, it ain’t gonna happen twice.”

“Man, are you crazy or just stupid?” Shane spat. “The fuck you think you’re doin’, showin’ up here? Ya gotta know the Sheriff’s got all eyes on you. But hell, maybe that’s what you’re hoping. Maybe you’re one of them guys who just can’t make it on the outside. Tryin’ to provoke the Sheriff so he’ll put you away someplace safe.”

Merle grinned toothily at him, eyes never crinkling in the least. “Well I can see why Darleena likes ya so damn much. Got a hell of a mouth on you, boy. Bet it reminds him of his big brother.”

“I’m serious, Merle,” Shane said, crossing his arms over his chest. “What are you doin’ here? You know this ain’t gonna end well.”

“Yeah, ain’t gonna end well for you, jackass. ‘Cuz lemme tell ya, _Shane Walsh_ , there ain’t nothin’ you can do to keep me from my brother. And that’s a fact.”

“Oh, there’s plenty I can do. Just fuckin’ try me,” Shane sneered.

“You think he’ll pick _you?_ ” Merle punctuated the question with a snort. “Christ, kid, I almost feel sorry for ya. Daryl’s my blood. And he’s comin’ with me, one way or another.”

Shane’s eyes narrowed. “Know what I think? I think you’re scared. You seen he’s got a good thing going here. A family that won’t crap out on him. People who care about him. And you don’t like that ‘cuz then, where does that leave you, huh Merle? See, here’s how I know I care about Daryl more than you do: when he’s got a problem, I fix it. You think what happened to Will Dixon was some damn coincidence? Good police work?” Shane laughed ruefully. “You don’t wanna be another problem, Merle. Or I’ll make sure you and your daddy end up bunkin’ together down at county.”

Whatever amusement had remained on Merle’s face instantly fell away.

“Don’t you go threatnin’ me, boy,” Merle spat, “Daryl ain’t gonna be cozying up to you no more once he finds out what you did.”

“And what’d I do?” Shane asked with feign innocence. “Tried to give a drunk asshole a free ride home, is what. Ain’t my fault he was packin’ more meth than a Mexican mule at the time. And it ain’t like I _asked_ him to start beating on me, and on camera to boot. Daryl knows I was just lookin’ out for him. And that’s what you’re missing here, Dixon—Daryl doesn’t need you anymore. He’s got me.”

It was then that Merle’s harsh expression chirped up into a fake-looking grin, directed at the space behind Shane’s back.

“Well hey there, baby brother. Look who decided to join the party,” Merle drawled.

When Shane spun around, the look on Daryl’s face was guarded at best. He eyed Shane up and down, warily.

“Thought ya had practice, today?” Daryl finally rasped, and Shane frowned at him.

_Yeah, but I wanted to see you first. Get some time together before you head home, like we_ always _fucking do._

“I do,” was what Shane eventually said, careful to keep Daryl’s eye. But he did not like what he found there.

“Best get going then,” Daryl rasped with a flat tone, and Shane could feel Merle’s mocking leer against the back of his head. “Don’t wanna be late.”

Shane shifted uneasily on his feet, not quite ready to make his exit.

“Yeah. I’ll see you at home,” Shane said. But the statement became more of a question when all Daryl did was grunt in response, shrug a shoulder and refuse to look him in the eye.

Unfortunately though, Shane actually was late. And he couldn’t exactly babysit the pair of them and escort Daryl home like a child. He knew the younger Dixon well enough to know that kind of behavior would not stand. So Shane begrudgingly turned his back to them and began the slow walk back towards the school. It was a fight not to look back.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

Shane arrived at the Grimes house late that night, sweaty and tired, and more than looking forward to passing out in Daryl’s bed.

But then he opened the front door, and he knew what happened. He knew before Rick even opened his mouth.

“His bow’s gone,” Rick told him grimly, “His truck. Some of his clothes. And he left the phone we got him on his desk.”

Shane floated blindly down the hall and into Daryl’s room. He picked up Daryl’s phone, and found that the younger boy had been mid-way through a text when he’d set it down and made his leave.

TO: Shane

_I’m sorry._

SAVED AS DRAFT: 3:42 PM

Shane lay down on Daryl’s side of the bed and tried to quiet his warring mind.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. I'm really excited for you guys to read this. I hope everyone enjoys! x

For the first time since he was a child, nightmares kept Shane awake at night. They’d started the night Daryl disappeared, more than a week ago now, and continued to plague him every time he’d closed his eyes since.

Shane loathed himself for it, but he couldn’t bring himself to be angry. Not even resentful, or frustrated—no, all he felt these days was fear. A kind of profound helplessness he’d never experienced before. If anything, he hated himself for stooping this low, allowing himself to let Daryl close enough that the loss of what they’d had would leave a hole in his chest.

When he dreamt, he dreamt of Daryl. His mind fabricated different scenes each night, but the result was always the same. Daryl lying dead at his feet, Daryl dying in his arms, or worse yet, being forced to watch as Daryl was killed by another right before his eyes.

Tonight was no different.

_“Please, Shane,” Daryl groaned, throwing his head back against the older boy’s shoulder. He didn’t have much stamina for teasing on a good day, and they’d been at this for over an hour now. But fuck, Shane loved it when he begged._

_“Gonna have to do better than that, Daryl,” Shane murmured, crooking his fingers and rubbing hard against Daryl’s prostate until the boy sobbed and writhed, gasping for air. They were pressed as close together as could be, with Daryl’s back to Shane’s front, and the jock’s hand wrapped tightly around the base of Daryl’s cock. He couldn’t come, even if he wanted to. Even if he needed it more than anything, couldn’t take another second of this suspended bliss._

_“Whatever you want,” Daryl moaned, “I’ll do whatever you want, Shane. Please.”_

_Shane tightened his hand around Daryl’s cock, pressed his fingers in just a little bit harder._

_“You know what I want,” Shane growled into his ear, and Daryl shivered violently, twisting in his arms so he could look the other boy in the eye._

_“I—I n-need you, Shane,” Daryl stuttered out with bright red cheeks._

_“Is that all?” Shane murmured, nuzzling against his neck. He relinquished his grip on Daryl to allow the boy to face him fully. Daryl immediately went to bury his face in Shane’s chest, still unable to say the words while looking the older boy in the eye._

_Shane carded his fingers through Daryl’s hair, and stroked gently down the side of his neck._

_“S’alright, Daryl,” Shane whispered soothingly, “You can tell me. I want to know. I want to hear it again.”_

_He pressed against the arch of Daryl’s shoulders, trying to mead the tension out of his body. Rather than responding the way he knew Shane wanted, Daryl snaked a hand between their bodies and jerked open Shane’s jeans, promptly beginning to stroke the jock’s neglected length._

_“You need to hear me say it first?” Shane asked breathlessly, “Still?”_

_Daryl’s answer came in a flick of the wrist that had his palm grazing none too gently across the head, making Shane’s back bow._

_“Look at me,” Shane demanded. And when those baby blues darted up obediently, still uncertain after all this time, Shane smiled at him softly. “I love you.”_

_He said it without any doubt in his voice, but also without the power that might indicate the words were forced. Shane said it, and even though Daryl believed him, he still squinted slightly, searching the other boy’s face._

_But Shane knew Daryl well, well enough to understand that the younger boy thrived off of actions, rather than words. So he took Daryl’s cock in hand once more and began to stroke him slowly, watching his face._

_“I love you,” Shane said again, as he peppered kisses across Daryl’s cheeks. He didn’t worry much when they came away damp and salty; Shane knew that was just how Daryl processed. His body had a natural inclination to reject Shane’s endearments, reject any affection at all until he was pushed over the edge. Broken down enough to acknowledge the truth of it all._

_Shane’s hand moved harder, faster. He knew the boy was hanging on by a thread as it was, having been made to hover just above the crest of release for so long now, and it wouldn’t take much to shake him loose._

_“Fuck, fuck Shane,” Daryl moaned, watching Shane’s eyes instead of his hands. “I’m so—fuck, I’m close, I’m—“ He sucked in a shuddering breath. “Love you Shane,” he whispered in a rush, “Please, please lemme…”_

_Shane kissed him hard, because_ that _, that was something worth rewarding. It only took a few more rough movements of Shane hand for Daryl to erupt between them, clutching onto Shane like a lifetime and groaning into his mouth._

_“That’s it,” Shane muttered against Daryl’s cheek as he began to thrust forcefully into the younger boy’s fist, “That’s it._ Fuck. _”_

_He came with a jolt, a shiver ripping down his spine as he watched Daryl slowly come back to himself. They stayed pressed together against the wall for some time. And Shane kissed Daryl leisurely, putting back together the pieces he’d taken apart. He righted Daryl’s clothes while the boy righted his world, and things were good, peaceful even._

_Until the front door slammed shut._

_The look of unmasked terror in Daryl’s eyes was enough to make Shane’s stomach drop. And they were both moving, going for the back door, but there wasn’t any time._

_“You worthless piece of shit,” came the voice of Will Dixon, blocking their way and ripping Daryl right out of Shane’s grasp. He jumped to go after them, step between them and take those lashes himself, but two large arms grabbed him from behind, holding him back as Daryl was dragged away by his hair and thrown to the floor._

_“Merle, lemme go!” Shane yelled, “Let me go. Fucking let me go! Don’t do this, don’t—“_

_“Shoulda known you’d be a faggot too,” Will Dixon seethed, “A fuckin’ disappointment!” He punctuated the words with a sharp kick to Daryl’s ribs. Then again. And, again. “You ain’t got a bit of Dixon in you, boy. No, you’re weak!”_ thud _“Not my son. Not_ my _son.”_ thud _“And this ain’t getting around, boy. I ain’t havin’ this whole town know I raised some degenerate cocksucker.”_

_Shane fought and snapped against Merle’s grasp, but the larger man was relentless. Another blow landed to Daryl’s middle, and even though the youngest Dixon took the pain silently, a constricted sob escaped Shane’s chest._

_“Stop! STOP! You’re gonna kill him. He’s your_ son _! Please, please…”_

_Will Dixon kept it up until there was a sickening crack, followed by a second, and a third, and all of Daryl’s breaths were coming in wheezy and shallow._

_“Just let him go,” Shane begged, “Just let him go! You can do whatever you want to me, alright? You can fucking kill me! Just let him go!”_

_Daryl’s father jerked open his belt. “You take this like a man,” he growled, before throwing his son over the side of the chair._

_And then that first lash came down like a guillotine, sharper than a blade, and Shane didn’t want to watch. He didn’t want to see how still Daryl was holding himself, or know that it was because the boy couldn’t move anymore, didn’t have the strength and was rapidly losing blood. He didn’t want to see the tears streaming down his face, or the way his mouth was held open in a silent scream. And Shane wanted desperately, prayed to whatever god had already abandoned them, to strike him blind  when Daryl’s breathing began to fade in and out, then suddenly, wasn’t there at all._

_But Will Dixon didn’t stop. He didn’t stop until the pool of blood around Daryl’s body had reached his feet. Until his son’s face was paler than plastic and Shane’s legs had given out on him entirely. Merle finally dropped his arms and let him fall to the floor as he sobbed._

_Shane heard the squelch of boots against blood-drenched carpet as Daryl’s father approached him._

_“Just, just kill me—“ Shane gasped amid heaving breaths, “Just kill me, just—“_

Shane woke with a sob, with tears streaming down his face and his heart hammering against his chest. The dreams were always bad, always left him a sobbing wreck in their wake. But it was so much worse that his brain had tricked him into believing things were good. Reliving a moment he wished were real, rather than being forced endure the worst of his fears. Shane wished so badly for those first few blissful moments to have been a memory. But they were just another figment of his unconscious, tormenting him for things he’d never done, and words he’d never said or had the pleasure to hear.

He was in Daryl’s bed again, had found himself there in the late hours of the evening long past the point where the rest of the Grimes household had gone to sleep. He let himself in through the back door, because he knew they wouldn’t mind, and because sleeping alone in his big empty house only seemed to make things worse.

Shane tried to quiet his sobs, get a handle on his hitching breaths, but he knew it was no use.

There was a rap at the door. “Shane?”

And fuck, of course it was Rick, creeping around his own house in the dead of night.

“I’m—m’fine,” Shane croaked out, but his friend was not having it. Rick cracked open the door and took in the desolate sight in front of him. He shut the door and took a step towards the bed, making his intent clear. And _leave me the fuck alone_ was on the tip of Shane’s tongue. But if there were two facts he knew better than anything, the first was that it wasn’t healthy for him to be alone right now, and the second was that Rick would never leave him anyways.

“You alright, man?” Rick asked carefully, even though the answer was clear.

“J-just, just a bad dream,” Shane struggled to get out, still hiccupping with every other breath.

“Yeah,” Rick said quietly, sitting down on the bed, “You haven’t looked like you’ve been sleeping lately.”

Shane huffed out a laugh that was choked off by a sob.

“You know you don’t gotta sneak in,” Rick tried, “You’re always welcome here, man. You’re family.”

“Yeah,” Shane sighed, “I know. T-tried to sleep at my house, just, c-couldn’t, and I—“

“Do you wanna tell me what it was about?” Rick asked cautiously, “I mean, ya don’t have to. It’s just—you haven’t said much, since he left. And I know you’re hurting man, you don’t hide it well. Maybe it’ll help to talk?”

Shane let out a low sigh. “Don’t wanna talk,” he said finally, getting a handle on his breathing, “Talk about it, and he’s really... and I can’t take that. S’bad enough as it is.”

“That nightmare looked bad. You had one like it before?”

Shane nodded slightly. “Since he…” _Left_ , fuck, he still couldn’t say it out loud. _Daryl left me._ “They’re all different, but they end the same. Daryl’s dead, and I can’t do anything. Can’t help him. Tonight it was…it was his dad. Hurtin’ him because of me. And Merle was holding me back—I had to watch—“

Shane cut himself off again, fighting to keep himself from breaking down.

“Jesus, Shane. That’s horrible,” Rick whispered.

“You’re tellin’ me,” Shane mumbled, but he couldn’t muster up a smile to go with the feigned lightness of his words. “It’s just, I never told him how much I—and now he’s—and fuck, I keep thinkin’ that if I’d just _said_ it…”

“He knew though,” Rick tried to reason, “S’not like he thought it was some casual thing. You and him, Daryl knew y’all were in it for the long haul—“

“Not were,” Shane cut him off, “Not _was_. You don’t get it man. The way I feel about him, I can’t stop. It’s never gonna stop.” _And I’m not sure if I want it to._

“You’ve just got to give it time,” Rick told him, “It fucking sucks, but time’s the thing. The only thing.”

“Yeah…” Shane sighed, frowning a little as Rick pulled the sheets over him and bunkered down in bed. “What are you doin’?”

“Sleepin’,” Rick mumbled back, and that’s all he _would_ say, because even if Shane wouldn’t acknowledge it, even if Shane refused to ask aloud, he needed Rick right now. He needed to know he wasn’t alone.

“Thanks,” Shane replied under his breath after several minutes had passed. And even though it wasn’t the real deal, when Shane finally willed his eyes to close, the feel of Rick’s warm body beside him was enough to lull Shane back to sleep.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

Rick’s presence might have helped Shane fall asleep, but that moment of blind hope just before Shane had opened his eyes, the split second where he’d thought it was _Daryl_ beside him…well, that was enough to sour the day as a whole.

He went to school in a daze. Walked from class to class, but took in nothing around him. It was only in the cafeteria, as he failed to eat the lunch in front of him, that some of the words did begin to register.

Unfortunately, it was Lori who was speaking them.

“So where’s that hillbilly boyfriend of yours, Shane?”

He looked up at her silently, snapping her neck in his mind.

“Wait, don’t tell me,” she mocked with a snide smile, “He broke it off, didn’t he? Yeah, he _did._ Wow, Shane. Can’t even keep some piece of shit redneck interested. There must be something really wrong with you, huh Shane, if you couldn’t even convince Daryl Dixon to stick around.”

And Shane was both thankful and furious when he vaulted up out of his chair, more than willing to commit murder with an entire cafeteria full of witnesses, but instead collided with Rick’s solid form.

“Get off of me,” Shane growled as Rick held him back, “Get off of me, Rick. I’ll fuckin’ _kill_ her!”

But Rick wouldn’t let him go. He dragged him roughly by both arms out of the school and into the parking lot, hoping that getting Lori out of his sight would help to calm his friend down.

“Why did you do that?” Shane demanded, pacing and seething. “Why did you _do_ that?”

“Come on, Shane. You really thought I was gonna let you hit her? In front of everyone?”

“She fuckin’ _deserved_ it.”

“She did. And lemme tell you, if anyone deserves to clock her one it’s _me_. But you know that ain’t the way to handle things. I ain’t gonna let you beat up a girl in broad daylight.”

“You’re takin’ her side,” Shane accused, mind on the fritz.

“No, I’m takin’ _yours_. For fuck’s sake, Shane, you’ve got to get a fuckin’ handle on yourself. Daryl left. Alright? He fucking left you! And you need to start dealin’ with it—“

“No, no…” Shane interrupted, pacing and scrubbing his hand over his head obsessively.

“You need to hear this, Shane,” Rick insisted. “Daryl’s gone. He _left_ , alright? He chose that! And I’m not gonna watch you destroy your own life because you’re not ready to deal with it. Daryl left you Shane. He—“

Shane cut him off with a fist, and Rick was down on the first hit, half sprawled on the pavement in shock. He pressed a hand to his face and looked up at Shane with fear and surprise in his eyes, and all Shane could do was look at his hand as if it wasn’t connected to his body.

“I didn’t mean to…” Shane whispered dully, to no one in particular. He finally looked Rick in the eye, but only as he began to back away. “M’sorry, Rick. I didn’t mean to, I swear.”

And then Shane did the only thing he could do. He ran. Ran straight to his truck and jumped in the driver’s seat, peeling out of the parking lot even as Rick called his name in his wake.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

It wasn’t until Shane pulled into the same lot where he’d gotten Will Dixon arrested that he realized where he was going. He walked right under the sign that said BA, into the run down establishment, and took a seat at a stool farthest from the door.

The bartender walked up to him with a dirty rag slung over one shoulder. “Well, look who it is,” he said, “Hate to tell you this, but ya look like shit, kid.”

Shane snorted. “Good thing you ain’t the first to let me know.”

The man set down a shot glass in front of him and poured in a healthy amount of whiskey. Shane cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Just don’t go tellin’ any of your friends,” the guy ordered gruffly, and Shane chugged down the amber liquid without complaint.

“Hey, I remember you,” came a low voice from Shane’s left. He looked over to find none other than the sour, rough looking man he’d paid off months before to call the cops on Daryl’s father. Figures that he’d be a regular, sitting at the bar all afternoon on a weekday, rather than working for a living.

“Oh yeah?” Shane replied flatly. “What do you remember?”

“Remember you shovin’ them twenty dollar bills in my hand, for one,” the man said with a glint in his eye. “Ya know what I heard? Heard Will Dixon’s down in county now. Heard he’s gonna be there for a decade at least.”

“That so?” Shane muttered, tension building in his gut.

“Damn straight,” the man continued. “And I was thinkin’, awfully coincidental that you knew walkin’ in here that night that old Will would go and start a fight with ya. Downright mystic, if ya ask me.”

Shane flipped his glass over with a clatter, and stood up off his stool in a rush, finally looking the other man dead in the eye. “What of it?” he growled.

But the man wasn’t one to back down. “Well, the way I see it, the cops might be interested in your little bout of clairvoyance. Information like that, it’d probably shed a whole lotta doubt on why Dixon got locked up to begin with. Dontcha think?”

Shane glowered at him. “I think it’s none of their damn business, and sure as hell ain’t yours.”

“Yeah, and I’d say the same, if ya hadn’t dragged me into this from the get go. Now boy, I ain’t sayin’ I can’t be reasonable. You and me, all’s we gotta do is work out an arrangement,” the man said with a leering smile.

“You best tread real fuckin’ carefully here,” Shane threatened, taking another step forward.

The man’s face darkened. “And why would I do that? Watcha gonna do about it, hoss?”

Shane let out a rush of breath through pursed lips. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. And he began to turn away, might have walked right out of that damn bar and headed home, if the man had managed to keep his mouth shut.

“S’what I thought,” he grunted, and Shane spun around on a dime, using the momentum of his movements to hook his right fist soundly against the other man’s cheek. There was a sharp thud, a globule of blood spit to the floor, before the man launched himself at him, and Shane didn’t have to think twice about defending himself.

The man fought dirty, scratched at his face and kneed him in the nuts as they wrestled on the ground. But the rational part of Shane’s mind had left the building, gone dormant in lieu of the possessive, prevailing, feral portion that all but screamed at him to rip this fucker limb from limb. It would have been one thing if the man had only threatened him. But the thought of Will Dixon free to go as he pleased, the thought of Daryl’s face if he ran into his father out on the streets… _no_. Shane wouldn’t let that happen. And he’d kill this motherfucker for even suggesting it.

Shane didn’t let up. He hardly felt the blows, or heard the shouts from around him. And it was only when two armed officers dragged him away that Shane finally let his body go slack, chest heaving as he tried to get the rush of adrenaline under control.

“Shane?! Shane, what the hell happened?”

The jock winced, partly because the feeling in his body was returning and partly because of-fucking-course Sheriff Grimes was the first on the scene. The man came to crouch next to him, where he was sitting against the side of the building, guarded by men in uniform. He ushered them away.

“Shane, what—“

“I started it,” Shane rasped, “You can take me in, I…he said some shit, ‘bout the Dixons…and I lost it. It was my fault, Mr. Grimes. Mine.”

The Sheriff let out a long sigh. “Ain’t you supposed to be in school, son?”

Shane looked at him strangely. “I was. But Lori…said some stuff. ‘Bout Daryl. Rick tried to help, but I, I fuckin’ _hit_ him.” Shane looked up at Rick’s father sheepishly. “Sorry,” he muttered, “But I left, and nothin’ else was helping, so I thought maybe a drink…fuck, I just wanted a goddamn drink.”

He buried his face in his hands again, leaning against his knees and trying to drown out the world.

“Alright,” the Sheriff said slowly, “Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to go talk to my officers. We’re going to work something out with the owner of this…place. And then you and I are going to go home. Now wait here.”

Shane closed his eyes and tilted his head up to the sun, hoping dully that the Earth might finally burn up and take him with it.

After a lengthy discussion, Sheriff Grimes returned and hauled him up by one arm, throwing him into the back of his cruiser and escorting him home. They drove in silence, entered the house in silence and sat down at the kitchen table together without exchanging a word.

Rick’s father got up and went over to the fridge. He plucked two beers out of the bottom bin, popped them both open, and handed one to Shane. The boy took it hesitantly, expecting to be scolded a moment after. But when the Sheriff simply sat beside him, drinking his beer and staring out into the yard, Shane followed his lead.

“It’s time we have a talk,” the eldest Grimes began, and Shane’s eyes dropped to his lap. “You and Daryl, you two were…together. Yes?”

“Mmhmm,” Shane grunted, crossing his arms over his chest protectively.

“Right. Now, you’ve got to understand, the only reason I didn’t bring this up sooner was because you and Daryl didn’t seem to want anyone to know. I figured you’d tell me when you were ready. But considering how that went, it might be time to push the matter. So let’s put it all on the table. Just what were you and Daryl to each other?”

Shane cocked an eyebrow at him. “Together, like you said.”

“Yes, but together can mean a lot of things. It _could_ mean that things between the two of you were just…physical, so to speak. Though it doesn’t seem like that was the case…?”

“I cared about him,” Shane confirmed, “I _care_ about him. Fuck, I lo—“ Shane scrubbed a hand over his face. “But I never told him. Maybe he knew, at least part of it, but I never said what I shoulda said.” Shane took a lengthy draw from his bottle. “And now I’m going fuckin’ insane, because I know Merle won’t take care of him. All I did, all I’ve done since things started with Daryl was try to protect him. And that makes me sound like a pussy, but it’s true. I _had_ to—from his dad…and himself. And now he’s god knows where with that _asshole_ , and I can’t fucking take not knowing if he’s okay. Merle’s the one who left him to begin with! Left him alone with his sick fuck of a father. But he thought we were gonna make him choose. I could see it, ya know? See it in his eyes the second Merle came back. But he never talked to me about it, he just left.”

Shane took a deep, shuddering breath, and finally looked up for the Sheriff’s reaction. He was surprised to find the man had a slight smile on his face.

“It sounds like what you really need to do is tell all this to Daryl.”

“Probably. But he left his phone here, and I ain’t exactly psychic.”

“But that doesn’t mean you can’t talk at him, per se. I think you should call him. Say everything you wished you’d said, and even if Daryl never gets to hear it, at least you tried, right? At least you finally said it out loud.” Shane nodded thoughtfully, figuring anything, at this point, was worth a try.

“I want you to do that. And Shane, I need you to stop beating yourself up over this. You didn’t do anything wrong, son, and there’s no reason for you to feel guilty for neglecting to say words that maybe you weren’t ready for him to hear anyways. But most of all, you’ve got to start talking to the people who care about you. When you feel everything building up, when it starts to become too much, you need to seek out me or Rick. The last thing you want is for Daryl to find out you ended up in juvie because of him. If he does come back, and I’m still hoping he will, then he’s going to need you Shane.”

“Alright,” Shane acquiesced, “I’ll try. Talkin ain’t exactly my forte, but, s’not like beatin’ people up’s been helping much either.”

“You’re damn right it hasn’t,” Sheriff Grimes replied sternly, “You need to stop with this hotheaded bullshit. That may be part of who you are, but it’s not _all_ of who you are. You understand?”

“Yessir,” Shane murmured.

The Sheriff pulled him into a quick, constricting hug, then let the boy wander over to what was still Daryl’s room. Shane pulled out his phone and dialed the number he knew by heart.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

“Ain’t nobody ever gonna care about you except me, little brother.”

Daryl didn’t answer, choosing to continue staring out the window of his truck, watching the road sweep by and paying little attention to just where exactly Merle was taking them.

But Merle wasn’t the kind of guy who took well to silence. He always needed to fill it up with something, usually the wrong something too. The kind of something that got him into fights or carted off to jail, and made him seem like twice the asshole he actually was.

“You know what you were to them? A freak. Redneck trash. Some dirty old mutt they dragged in from the cold ‘cuz they felt sorry for it. They were laughing at you behind your back, Darleena, I’ll tell you that. And one day, one day they woulda just scarped you off their heels like you was dogshit, and you’d have been right back where you are now.”

Daryl gritted his teeth and imagined a crater in the road ahead of them, growing larger and darker and deeper and swallowing them up whole.

“Hey—they ain’t your kin. Your _blood_ ,” Merle emphasized, slamming his palm down on the steering wheel. “Hell, you had any damn nuts in that sack of yours, you woulda shot your old pal Sheriff Grimes in the face for puttin’ me away.”

The younger Dixon stayed quiet, staring off into the distance and letting the white noise of his idling mind slowly drown out his brother’s hateful swill.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

They checked into a motel that was dingy at best, just two turns off the side of the highway. The balding man at the front desk asked if they wanted to pay by the hour, and Daryl pressed his nails deep into his palm and tried to pretend he was anywhere else.

After dropping their stuff off in the room, Merle snatched the keys up off the mantle and was out the door again, calling behind him that he’d be back in a few hours with beer.

_Hours_.

Daryl lay back on one of the beds and pressed his hands against his eyes, willing the world around him to disappear. He found himself wondering what it would be like if he’d never gotten with Shane at all, if the Grimes hadn’t taken him in and his dad hadn’t been put away. It was a hard sell, but at least without such happy moments for comparison, being on the road with Merle again wouldn’t feel so wrong.

Merle spouted out a lot of words about a lot of things, but he’d gotten one thought absolutely right. Merle was his blood, and Daryl couldn’t abandon him. If the younger Dixon had stayed with the Grimes, gotten a job or maybe even gone to college, where would that leave his big brother? Back in jail, most likely. This time for something worse, violent and far-reaching. At least by Merle’s side, Daryl could look out for his brother in person, and make he didn’t ruin his life completely.

And hell, he’d never fit in with the Grimes anyways. They’d cleaned him up a bit and kept him off the streets, but he’d always felt like a circus act to them, some lion they spent years training just to have it nervously pace the walls of its cave.

Convincing himself that Shane hadn’t cared was a more difficult matter. And as soon as Daryl’s mind reached that impasse, trying and failing to jump the hurdle of the older boy’s undeniable affection, Daryl was up on his feet and scratching nervously at his wrists, wanting out of this room and this town and this fucking life. He paced back and forth to pass the time, telling himself that Shane didn’t need him anyways. That the jock would get over him, probably already had some busty blonde bimbo in his bed.

But that thought didn’t help at all. Daryl’s insides lurched and he barely made it to the bathroom before he was puking up the measly contents of his stomach into the porcelain toilet. But even with Merle gone and Daryl’s guts trying valiantly to escape his body through his esophagus, the sting of his eyes never progressed to anything embarrassing. The knowledge that he’d fucked everything up seared with a kind of sharpness he wasn’t used to, worse than that sick feeling he used to get when he heard the doors of his dad’s truck slam shut.  

Daryl sat on the bathroom floor for what could have been hours, until true to form, Merle burst back into the motel room with two trashy and piss-drunk women in tow, and beer in his hands. There was a brief flicker of recognition on his older brother’s face, when he took in Daryl’s bloodshot eyes and sullen expression. But he quickly replaced his pursed-lips with a wide smile.

“Look what I brought ya, baby brother,” Merle boomed, “Gonna have ourselves a party.”

The girls got settled and Merle handed Daryl an open beer, which the younger promptly chugged. Never mind the fact that his stomach was as empty as Merle’s beat up leather wallet—Daryl would have taken anything, at this point, for the promise of duller senses and an easier night’s sleep.

He sat against the opposite wall while the girls fawned over his brother, all hands and too-plump lips. Daryl watched with his eyes half-shut, until the room began to sway back and forth. Only two beers in, he knew it was far too early to have the spins. And then he was hot, so fucking hot he’d have ripped his clothes off in different company. Everything felt itchy and wrong against his skin and _Christ_ , how was it that the rough denim of his jeans was friction enough to have him hard and pressing against the zipper.

“Merle,” he groaned, writhing on the floor for any comfortable position, “Merle, what did you do?”

“Nothin’ much, baby brother,” Merle replied, shooting him a shit-eating grin. And that confirmed it; the fucker had spiked his drink.

“The _fuck_ ,” Daryl grunted, fighting not to claw at his own skin. “Merle, you fuckin’ _asshole_ , what’d you do?”

Rather than answer, Merle wrenched one of the girls to her feet, smacked her on the ass and shoved her in his direction. She landed in his lap.

“Fuck’s sake,” he griped as she giggled. She slid her hands underneath his shirt without warning, and Daryl smacked his head back against the wall in his effort to get away from her.

“What the _fuck_ ,” he growled, “Just go back to Merle. He wants ya.”

He tripped over himself as he stood, stumbling to his feet and trying to navigate the spinning room. Daryl closed his eyes and hooked onto the wall, attempting to get a hold of his racing heart. But when that didn’t work, he snatched up one of Merle’s six-packs and B-lined straight for the bathroom, slamming the door shut and snapping in the lock before his brother could put up a fuss.

Daryl stared at himself in the mirror and downed a beer. He stared longer and drank two more. The picture of him was blurry, almost like it was vibrating at too high a speed for his eyes to capture. But the tenting in his jeans was obvious, still, and the younger Dixon was reasonably sure that he wouldn’t be able to sleep until it was gone.

Unzipping his fly and pulling out his aching length was an easy move, and a practiced one. He caught his own eye in the mirror, then thought better of it and clenched his eyes shut, slowly running his fist up and down and trying to get this over with as quickly as possible. But the less into this he was, the longer it would take.

He racked his brain for any appropriate material—those magazines he’d found in Merle’s room back when he was a freshman, the painfully awkward first kiss he’d shared with Lucy Andrews back in middle school. But all of it paled in comparison to the many, burning, blissful and bright moments he’d shared with Shane. It didn’t help at all that Daryl’d had just about no sexual experience before the jock had approached him, or the memories of the two of them together were still so fresh in his mind.

His brain didn’t like it. And his heart must not have either, from the way it clenched and fought against him. But the thought of Shane standing behind him, wrapping an arm around his body and stroking him in that perfect way of his had Daryl’s cock twitching in approval. He closed his eyes again, and it was Shane behind him, kissing his neck and holding him close. It was Shane’s hand bringing him off slow and easy, upping the pace incrementally until Daryl was gasping for breath. It was Shane’s thumb that grazed over the head, dipping into the slit and making Daryl moan for relief. And finally, it was Shane’s mouth that latched onto his neck as Daryl finally found his release, coming across the sink with a strangled groan.

Daryl’s eyes snapped open at the last moment, bleary and unfocused. But even as the aftershocks rocked through him, the sight of himself spent and alone, red in the face from the cocktail of beer and drugs he’d consumed—Daryl thought maybe he’d throw up again. Or finally pass out on the floor, and let the fucked up failure of today be over. But his body seemed to have other plans, making his vision warp and the room shake and the temperature skyrocket. He belatedly wondered just what Merle had put in his drink, and how much of it.

The younger Dixon struggled to tuck himself away, then stumbled into the bathtub, pumping up the cold water and slumping against the opposite wall as the icy liquid seeped into his clothes. He wasn’t sure how long he lay there before the sickening noises from the next room stopped. But soon after, Merle broke through the bathroom door with a crack, wood splintering as his eyes landed on his messed up little brother, teetering somewhere between high and grief-stricken.

“Daryl…” Merle sighed, and the archer didn’t need to look up to know that his brother’s expression wasn’t jovial anymore. He took a deep breath to collect himself, then crept closer. “Alright, baby brother. Let’s get you to bed.”

“No,” Daryl replied flatly, in a voice so low he wasn’t sure Merle had heard him. So he turned his head to look his brother in the eye. “Get out, Merle.”

Because Daryl didn’t want to sleep. He didn’t want to be warm or comfortable or dry. No, Daryl needed _this_ , the dull sting of frigid water cracking against his skin, and the harsh lights, and the pain.

“Yeah, okay Daryl. Let’s just—“

“No! Get out!” Daryl spat, cutting him off.

“Daryl…”

“What, are you fuckin’ deaf now? I said go! I don’t want you here!” Daryl nabbed a bottle from off of the ground and chucked it at the wall. It shattered next to Merle’s head, raining glass down all over the floor. “Get out! Get the fuck out!”

His brother hesitated a moment, and Daryl snatched up another empty glass, throwing it at Merle’s head this time. The elder had only a second to dodge out of the way.

“Fucking go!” Daryl screamed, begged.

A familiar scowl fell across Merle’s face. “Ya know what—fine! Have it your way you annoying little shit! See if I care if you fuckin’ drown!”

He stomped out of the room and slammed the half-broken door in his wake, and Daryl tipped his head up towards the spray and willed the cold water to freeze over his rattling mind.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

Daryl didn’t have a strong memory of it, but at some point during the night he must have managed to get up out of the tub and find himself some dry clothes. There was a wisp of recollection in the back of his mind, a scene where Merle helped him back out of bed after he’d finally returned, and got him to the bathroom before he puked all over the carpet. It must have been a dream, because the Merle that Daryl almost remembered had soothed him in a gentle voice, pet his hair and gotten him to drink some water, then all but carried him back into their room. Dream Merle had tucked him into bed, piling every spare blanket he could find on top of him when Daryl had started shivering.

When Daryl woke up, noontime light was streaming in through the paltry curtains, and Merle was already awake. He’d cleaned up the broken glass from the bathroom, and the empty bottles from their disaster of a night. Whether or not that surprised him, things went right back to normal when Merle announced, “We need money, little brother. And I got us a job.”

“What kinda job?” Daryl croaked. He fought to sit up, and the world spun on its point.

“The kind ya don’t tell no one about, that’s what,” Merle laughed, “Old friend from inside’s gonna run it with us. Easy as pie.”

Daryl finally sat up and ground his palms into his eyes. His head was pounding, and since he knew they didn’t have the cash to procure a couple Aspirin, let alone a whole bottle, Daryl muttered, “Yeah. Yeah, alright Merle.”

TWDTWDTWDTWD

Long past midnight, and out south of Atlanta again, the Dixon brothers met up with the type of man Daryl had always feared his brother would turn into. His head was shaved and his knuckles were cracked, and the swastika on his wrist was one of many hateful, permanent adornments he’d paid to have stamped across his body.

Cash had apparently been Merle’s cellmate during his last stint in prison, and had come up with the plan for this particular robbery after watching an old western train-heist film during his first week out. But this wasn’t a train heist. If anything, it’d be a hit and run, because Cash’s plan depended almost entirely on their ability to get in and out fast as lightening.

“Man, this is gonna be the easiest money you’ve ever made,” the skinhead bragged, “Security guard comes ‘round at 1am. We knock him out, break those windows and grab the jewels, then book it out of here before the cops show up. See? _Easy_.”

“Cameras?” Merle asked.

“In this Podunk town? You bet your ass there ain’t.”

“Well, fuck. They’re practically askin’ for it then. I say you and me bust inside, Daryl’s behind the wheel. We jump back out that window, he pulls up, and we’re out of there before the cops have even gotten the call,” Merle proposed, and Cash nodded right along.

Daryl looked between the two of them, biting at his lip and ignoring the icy dread that was pumping through his veins. Disagreeing with Merle wasn’t the best of ideas on a good day, and Cash didn’t look like the type of guy who would listen to reason. So the younger Dixon took the car keys from Merle and shoved his hands in his pockets, hoping that the next time he saw Sheriff Grimes wasn’t down at the county prison.

Merle and Cash took off towards the jewelry store, and Daryl sat in the truck. He watched as Cash skulked up behind the guard and clocked him with the butt of his gun, dropping the man in a heartbeat. He watched Merle drag the guard’s unconscious body into the alley, and out of the sights of anyone who might pass by on the street. A waste of time, by Daryl’s reckoning, considering that their next move was to smash in the windows at the front of the shop. And Daryl could hear the alarms even with the doors and windows of the car locked up tight. He fidgeted in his seat, and waited for their signal.

It was five of the most brutal minutes of Daryl’s life, heart hammering against his chest and knuckles going white against the steering wheel as he waited to see his brother’s head pop back into view. And Daryl didn’t realize just how still he’d been holding his body, breaths shallow and silent, until Merle jumped out through the windowless frame and waved him over. He jerked the truck into gear and pulled up right in front of the store.

Daryl jumped out of the truck to help them with the haul, and had his back turned to the shop when an unfamiliar voice from behind ordered, “Put your hands in the air.”

He swallowed hard, and turned around slowly as his hands rose above his head. It was the guard. Of fucking course it was the guard, somehow awakening from his slumber and getting his bearings quick enough to nab them before they could escape. He had his gun pointed at the three of them, and there was blood dripping down the back of his neck. Daryl looked to Merle out of his periphery, and when he found that his big brother shared his expression of panic, Daryl knew they were fucked. But when he looked to Cash next, the man was grinning.

“I said hands in the air!” the guard shouted.

Cash smiled all the wider and reached behind him into the space between his belt and his shirt.

“I’ve got a gun,” Cash announced, “Don’t shoot me, alright? I’m gonna bring it out nice and slow for ya. _Officer_.”

He pulled the pistol out from behind him and began to raise both hands slowly into the air.

“Just wanna show you my gun. See?” Cash cooed in a voice that sent chills down Daryl’s spine, “Nice and easy. Ain’t that right, officer?”

The guard’s hands were shaking. Daryl was sure he’d never actually had to arrest a robber before, let alone gotten stuck in a Mexican standoff. And Cash saw it, that flicker of fear. And the fucker latched on hard.

Cash’s hands dropped and the gunshot rang out before either Dixon could flinch, let alone move to stop him.

“Wait!” Daryl shouted, knowing as the word left his mouth that it was already too late. The guard went down with a thud, blood spreading rapidly from the hole in his chest.

The younger Dixon immediately lurched forward, rushing to the man’s side and pressing his hands over the wound. The man was staring up at him with a look of terror on his face, gurgling blood and looking to Daryl as if he, a fucking teenager, could fix this.

“Merle, get an ambulance!” Daryl cried, looking to his brother who was still frozen by the truck. He pressed harder against the man’s chest and tried not to think about how warm the blood was between his fingers. “You’re gonna be okay,” Daryl told him softly, “Everything’s gonna be okay, alright? I promise. Gonna get you some help.”

So wrapped up in soothing the man, his first and only indication of danger was when the guard’s eyes went even wider in the half second before Cash’s gun went off next to Daryl’s head. He flinched instinctively, slamming his eyes shut and trying to surpass the painful ringing in his ears. When Daryl opened his eyes again, the guard’s face was covered in blood. The hole at the center of his forehead seemed to be spouting out all the available fluids, until there was no face left to see.

_“Daryl, we’ve gotta go!”_

He couldn’t stop staring, sitting on his knees next to the guard and holding his hands out away from his body like they didn’t belong to him.

_“Daryl! Daryl, get the fuck up! We’re going!”_

When a heavy hand grasped him by the shoulder, Daryl startled noticeably. He looked up and saw his brother’s mouth moving, fast and wide like the man was shouting, but he couldn’t hear much over the high-pitched hum of his eardrums.

Merle finally seemed to put two and two together, and instead opted to drag Daryl to his feet and throw him into the truck. He jumped into the driver’s seat and they took off, with Daryl only noticing belatedly that Cash was nowhere to be found.  Not that it made much of a difference, now.

They drove and Daryl maintained a resolute silence, staring at the blood on his hands as it dried and cracked. He knew Merle was talking to him, some frenzied mess of words to his left, but it took a while for Daryl to make them out. And even when he could, the younger Dixon provided no indication that his hearing had returned. He just stared down at his hands until they finally came to a stop at a roadside motel with a neon sign.

Merle got out of the truck and checked them into a room. He carried their things inside, including the single bag of jewels that Cash had left behind in his rush to escape the murder scene. And once everything was settled, once Merle had sat down on the bed and wasn’t watching him anymore, Daryl plucked the car keys up off the bedside table and turned for the door.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doin’?” Merle’s gruff voice stopped him.

“You can keep the loot,” Daryl said to the ground, refusing to turn around fully. “And whatever money we’ve still got. I don’t want it.”

“So, what?!” Merle growled, bouncing up to his feet and beginning to pace. “You’re just gonna leave, that’s it? You’re gonna leave your blood?”

Something in Daryl snapped apart.

“Blood? You wanna talk about blood?!” Daryl shouted. “How ‘bout the blood I got all over my hands right now? The blood from the man your buddy just fucking murdered! You always go on about kin and family and _blood_ —but it’s all _bullshit_! You don’t give a shit about your family, and you sure as fuck don’t give a shit about me. Know how I know that? ‘Cuz if you cared about me, you never woulda asked me to do this tonight. You never woulda asked me to leave the Grimes, and you wouldn’t have left me alone my whole fuckin’ life! So don’t you fuckin’ talk to me about blood. I’m _done_.”

Daryl was shaking, fists clenched at his side and pupils blown when he realized that sometime during his rant, Merle had stopped moving. His older brother was ogling him with a look somewhere between confusion, guilt, and frustration. It was the only time in his life that Daryl had rendered Merle speechless. He took the opportunity to make for the door, one last time.

“Where you goin’?” Merle called. Daryl flinched when his voice cracked, like he was desperate. Hurt, even.

“Back where I belong,” Daryl grunted, and looked at his brother one last time.

Merle’s eyes darted around the room, searching for an excuse, or a bribe, or any reason really to convince his brother to stay. “I can’t go with you,” Merle finally rasped, “Damn near tried to kill that muscle-head friend of yours, and the Sheriff ain’t never gonna let me back near ya after what I did. I just…I can’t go with you.”

Daryl picked up his bow from where Merle had propped it by the door and threw it over his shoulder. “I might be the one walkin’ away, but you’re the one that’s leavin’…again.”

And when he pulled out of the lot and back onto the highway, Daryl didn’t look in the rearview mirror once.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

It was after 3am when the insistent banging at his front door woke Shane with a jolt. He eyed the clock and groaned lowly, but managed to roll himself out of bed and onto his feet. A house visit at this time of night didn’t foretell of good things. And he had half a mind to grab a baseball bat before swinging open the door, and facing whatever demons had come knocking.

In the end, he was glad he didn’t.

Daryl stood on his stoop in clothing soiled with blood. It was splattered across his arms and his face. Caked under his nails. And even though there were a million things Shane wanted to say to him, he couldn’t seem to suck in the breath to get them out. Instead, he stared at the boy he’d been missing for almost two weeks now. Stared hard, like he was searching for that flicker of a lie that would tell him this was just another nightmare.

But then Daryl looked up at him, sought out his eyes with that combination of hesitance and fire that had drawn Shane to him to begin with. It was real. And even when Shane couldn’t speak, Daryl somehow managed to.

“Please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *throws chapter then runs away and hides*


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok. I thought about breaking this into two chapters. I really did. But you guys would have hated me, and I would have hated me, and it just didn't feel right. So this baby is a monster. And it's sometimes sappy and sometimes sweet and sometimes downright slutty. But I love it. And I hope y'all do too.

“Please.”

Daryl’s voice cracked, but he managed to get it out nonetheless. And in the half-second after, Daryl’s eyes dropped from Shane’s face down to the floor, wary, timid, and more fearful of rejection than he could remember being in years. And god, he just wanted to go back to the way things were before. Back when Shane would take care of him without looking for anything in return, and without Daryl ever being forced to ask.

Shane took a small step forward, and Daryl couldn’t help but flinch. This was the part that always hurt the most—that tense space of air just before the  _“No._ ” But Daryl’s body felt like it was about to cave in on itself, and his vocal chords had apparently hit their quota of use for the day, so the younger boy stood with his shoulders slumped and stared blankly at the ground, waiting.

“Daryl,” Shane finally whispered, but the other boy wouldn’t look at him. Still too afraid to see that expression telling him in sure terms that he had nowhere left to turn. That Shane didn’t want him anymore.

It was lucky for the both of them that Shane was never the type to give up easy. He took another step forward, and reached out to Daryl, pressing his hands into either of the boy’s shoulders and trying to ground him.

“Daryl,” Shane tried again, “Are you hurt? You just have to tell me where, okay? Tell me where and I can help.”

Daryl shook his head numbly, still refusing to look up. But Shane made the choice for him, pushing two fingers under his chin and forcing the younger boy to finally meet his eye. Finally, Daryl saw that Shane seemed panicked, eyes wide and afraid, and Daryl couldn’t quite figure out why.

“Where are you hurt, Daryl?” Shane said once more, and it was only then that Daryl noticed the other boy’s hands were shaking a little.

The younger Dixon managed to whisper, “M’not.”

But that didn’t seem to sate the boy in front of him. Shane frowned hard, “But Daryl, the blood...”

Daryl followed Shane’s gaze downwards, and when the harsh crimson finally filled his vision, reality hit hard. He stumbled back a step, smacking his shoulder into the wall as his heart began to hammer against his chest and his breathing stopped entirely.

_No, no, no, no..._

Daryl scratched at his skin with enough ferocity to leave angry red lines in his wake. Some of the dry blood flaked to the floor, but the rest stubbornly clung to his body. He could feel it spreading, mapping out every inch of skin until it poured down his throat and gnawed away at him from the inside out.

_Gotta get it off. Gotta get it off, gotta get it—_

“Daryl!”

Shane’s hands were on him again, herding him inside none too gently and finally shutting the front door.

“Gotta—I’ve gotta—“ Daryl managed to croak, but Shane cut him off, already guiding him into the back of the house.

“I know, man. I know. It’s okay. We’ll just go take a shower, alright? You and me. You’re fine now. You’re here,” Shane told him lowly. And even though Daryl’s eyes were still trained on the ground, he didn’t put up a fight.

Shane pumped up the hot water before turning back to Daryl, who was standing half-inside the doorway and glaring at the ground as if it had personally affronted him.

“C’mon,” Shane said, pulling Daryl the rest of the way into the room and shutting the door. “C’mon, Daryl. It’s okay.”

The younger Dixon shivered violently as Shane began to undress him, stripping off the blood-soaked clothes and surveying his skin carefully for any signs of damage. Shane skimmed out of his own clothing in a rush and held out a hand towards Daryl.

“C’mon,” Shane urged him, “Let’s just get you clean, okay? One thing at a time.”

And even though Daryl didn’t look up, he took Shane’s proffered hand and stepped gingerly under the water, trembling even though he was far from cold, and looking anywhere but Shane’s eyes. But after months of random, sustained silences from Daryl, a few moments of it didn’t faze Shane at all.

“That’s it,” Shane praised him lowly as he massaged shampoo into Daryl’s scalp. He stood compliantly, facing Shane, while the other boy carefully cleaned and massaged every inch of his skin. Shane murmured all the while, making sure to keep his tone soft and easy.

And when the last of the blood swirled down the drain, Shane very carefully closed the distance between the two of them, pressed his body into Daryl’s solid form, and shoved his face into the archer’s neck. Daryl didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms tightly around Shane’s back, still trying to curtail the barely-concealed shaking.

They stood in cautious silence for several minutes, before Shane pulled his head back to look Daryl over once again. With an infinitesimal twitch of Shane’s eyebrow, Daryl conceded to finally unwind himself from Shane’s heady presence, and allow the older boy to lead him out of the shower and to someplace warm and dry.

Daryl leaned back against Shane’s desk, with a towel wrapped around his waist and another around Shane’s, while the other boy toweled his hair dry.

“We needed money,” Daryl abruptly rasped, and Shane put down the towel to give his full attention. “Merle said we had to do a job, with some guy he knew from lockup. Jewelry store…with a guard. They knocked him out first, but then when we were loading up the truck, the guard woke up and tried to stop is. Cash shot him; didn’t even think twice ‘bout it. And I tried—I tried to help him— _fuck_ —and there was so much blood and I  _tried_ —but Merle wouldn’t call the cops and the guard was just lookin’ at me and I didn’t know what to do, was just tryin’ to stop the bleeding—then Cash came up behind me and shot the guy in the head. He just…he just killed him.”

Daryl released a shuddering sigh and wrapped his arms around his middle. “Dropped Merle off at some motel. Then…then I got in my truck, and came here.”

When he looked up, Shane was nodding to himself with a resolute expression.

“Alright,” Shane murmured, taking a step toward Daryl. “Alright,” he said in a firmer voice, “Here’s what we’re gonna do. Tomorrow mornin’ we clean out your truck with bleach. Make sure that if the cops ever get that far, they ain’t gonna find nothin’. Then I’ll call Rick and tell him you came back home yesterday afternoon. You understand me? _Afternoon_. And you were with me all night, Daryl. Okay?”

Daryl stared at him blankly for a moment, then seemed to recover, and shook his head rapidly.

“You can’t do that,” Daryl whispered in a rush, and Shane opened his mouth to speak, but Daryl cut him off again. “ _No._  You ain’t goin’ to jail for me. You can’t, Shane. I won’t let you. I ain’t worth it.”

“You  _are_  worth it,” Shane said fiercely, “You’re worth a hell of a lot more.  _This_ , it’s worth it to keep you safe. To keep you  _here._ ”

He sounded desperate. More determined and confident in his words than Daryl had ever heard him. But it didn’t make sense because who the hell would risk the rest of their life, their freedom, for Daryl Dixon? The younger boy’s eyes darted back and forth across Shane’s face with blinding speed, searching for something, trying to understand.

“I don’t get it,” Daryl finally breathed out.

“Don’t get what?” Shane asked.

“You! Doin’ all this for me! Sayin’ stuff like that.  _I don’t get it_ , Shane,” Daryl insisted, and he was on his feet, pacing the room.

“Daryl,” Shane tried to soothe, “You mean somethin’ to me. You’ve gotta know that.”

“I don’t!” Daryl shouted. And then more quietly, the truth he never wanted to let slip, “M’nothin’.”

Shane’s pupils darkened to inky points. “Is that somethin’  _he_  told you?” the boy snarled. And Daryl wasn’t sure if he was referring to Merle, or his dad, or every other asshole in his life that had beat him down and let him know just how worthless he was. But at this point, it didn’t matter. They’d been right.

Daryl’s silence was response enough.

_“Fuck them!”_  Shane suddenly shouted, making Daryl jump slightly. “Fuck them, Daryl. They were wrong. I don’t care if I have to spend the rest of my life convincin’ you but I swear to god I will. Because they were fuckin’ wrong. You’re worth everything to me. _Everything,_  okay?”

Daryl watched him for a beat, watched Shane’s expression shift between anger and frustration and care. The next words out of his mouth made Shane flinch hard.

“Hit me.”

Shane took a step closer, cautious as if he were approaching a wild animal. “Daryl, what—“

“Hit me, you want to,” Daryl persisted, “You should hate me. I  _left_ —you should fuckin’ hate me. So hit me. Show me. I just wanna get it over with—“

“Stop.”

Shane grasped Daryl by his biceps, pinning him to the wall with his body and holding him steady with his gaze.

“I’m not gonna hit you,” Shane told him slowly, “I can’t hit you, Daryl. And I can’t hate you. Trust me, I fucking  _tried_. But I can’t.”

“Why?” Daryl questioned, voice cracking.

Shane released him and took a small step back. “Go get your phone.”

Daryl cocked an eyebrow at him.

“You wanna know why? Check your voicemail,” Shane explained in a tone that was almost defeated, but also somewhat nervous.

Daryl did as he said, picking his phone up off of the desk and holding it up to his ear.

_You have 6 new messages._

**_New message_ ** _from Rick Grimes at 4:01 PM on Tuesday, April 3 rd: Daryl? Hey so I got home and you aren’t here…and neither is any of your stuff… Fuck, look whatever you’re thinking of doing just don’t, alright? We can figure this shit with your brother out, just come home. You’re family, Daryl; you don’t have to do this. We all want you here. Call me back, okay?_

**_New message_ ** _from Sheriff Grimes at 4:18 PM on Tuesday, April 3 rd: Daryl…I know what happened with your brother the other night wasn’t ideal, but we can find a way to work through it. I’ll be keeping a close eye on him, but I promise you son, I won’t ask you to stay away from him. We can help him, Daryl, help get him back on his feet and help him to control his anger, so he doesn’t end up in jail again. I won’t ask you to turn your back on your family. I understand that he means something to you. But me, Mrs. Grimes, Rick…Shane…we all consider ourselves your family too. So please, son. Come home._

**_New message_ ** _from Mrs. Grimes at 5:21 PM on Tuesday, April 3 rd: Hi, sweetheart. Just calling to let you know we’re having chicken parmesan for dinner. I know it’s your favorite. And if that isn’t a good reason to come home, then I don’t know what is… Daryl, I—I just want you to know that you always have a place with us. Always. And when you need us again, if you do, we’ll be here, sweetheart. I promise you that. You can come back to us whenever you want to. That room will always be yours. But please, please just be safe._

**_New message_ ** _from Shane Walsh at 9:34 PM on Thursday, April 12 th: Hey. Rick’s dad thought I oughta try callin’, even though your phone’s here, so it ain’t like you’ll be hearing this any time soon. I…I hit Rick today. Never done that before. But he was goin’ off ‘bout how you left, weren’t coming back, and I couldn’t take it. Hit him, and then went over to the bar and got in a fight there too._

_I…Jesus, Daryl, I miss you, alright? I wanna be pissed. It’d be easier if I could hate you for leavin’, but I don’t. I’m not sad, either. Not sad the way I’m supposed to feel it. I’m just scared. Fuck, Daryl, I’m so fuckin’ scared you won’t come back. That I’ll never get to tell you—or, that you’ll get hurt. And I won’t be there. Never been this scared before, man. Didn’t know somethin’ like this was in me. I… listen, listen—we can go back to the way things were, okay? You just gotta come home._

**_New message_ ** _from Shane Walsh at 10:55 PM on Thursday, April 12 th: Hey, man. I’m in your room. Been sleeping here a lot, honestly. My house is too empty, and…fuck. Feels like I’m talkin’ to your fuckin’ tombstone or something. What’s worse is: I could be. You might be dead in some ditch out there, somewhere you’d never get found, and we’d never even know—shit, I—m’sorry, man. That ain’t why I’m doin’ this. Supposed to be sayin’ what I need to say, and all I can do is pace around worrying like a fuckin’ housewife._

_The thing is, I was wrong before. I am pissed. But not at you, man, at me. And that’s worse ‘cuz—‘cuz I saw you leaving before it happened. I saw that look on your face and Merle’s, and Rick’s dad’s, and fuck, Daryl. I knew you were gonna leave. I saw it happening, but I didn’t do anything about it. I dunno why. Maybe I thought you’d pick me, or, maybe I didn’t think I was allowed, ya know? Didn’t want to have to convince you to stay with me, to be with me._

_I always went on ‘bout how you were mine, but we both know it was the other way around. You owned me, man. Still do. I think…I think I always needed you more than you needed me. ‘Cuz maybe I helped you out a bit, but I ain’t never been close to someone before you, Daryl. I dunno if I just didn’t know how, or didn’t think I could. But you did somethin’ to me. Wish I knew what it was. Man…I wish a lot of things._

**_New message_ ** _from Shane Walsh at 3:31 AM on Thursday, April 12 th: Hey. Hey, I—fuck, it’s late but I just—just need to breathe— god, Daryl. Keep having these nightmares about you. Fucked up ones, where you die, and I can’t help you. Have to watch it happen. I mean, can you believe that? I ain’t had nightmares since I was six, and back then it was about werewolves and monsters under the bed. But now, my brain always goes to the same place. Losing you._

_Thing is, I’m pretty sure I already did—lose you. S’been more than a week, and no one’s heard from ya. Rick’s folks are still goin’ on ‘bout how you’ll come back eventually. But I dunno…I think they’re just sayin’ that for my sake. Tryin’ to make me feel better. Ain’t like it works._

_Look, I need to say somethin’. Well, what I really need is for you to hear it, but I ain’t got that option anymore, so here it is. I…I wish you coulda seen how much I cared about you. ‘Cuz maybe if you’d seen it, you wouldn’t have gone. But…that first time I was over to your house, it was like everything fell into place for me. Shit started to make sense. And maybe I’d been lookin’ your way for a while, but being with you like that, having you need me…that was probably one of the best nights of my life. And maybe that says some shitty things about my life so far, but it’s true. Never had someone need me before. Want me, like you did, for any longer than a night._

_Hell, my dad took off on me years ago, and my mom ain’t been around long enough since then to ask me ‘bout school, let alone anything real. So you…you’re the only one, man. You’re everything. But it ain’t just that I care about you, and it ain’t just that I need you, and I like that you need me too sometimes. There’s something else. I…fuck. It figures I can’t even say it to your voicemail. Maybe if I’d been able to get up the guts, you’d be here right now._

_But you ain’t. And I wanna be able to tell you I love you to your face. Fuck, I wanna be able to say it and show you at the same time. I love you. Ha—fuck, see? It’s getting easier. Why the fuck didn’t I do this earlier? Daryl, you gotta come home man. You have to. ‘Cuz I love you, and I ain’t gonna stop. Just come home, so I can prove it._

Shane sat on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands and watched Daryl closely. His body went tight and alert when the younger boy finally pulled the phone away from his ear and set it down on the desk. Daryl’s face was unreadable, a jumbled mess of emotions rather than a mask of indifference. But too tense to sit still, Shane popped up off the bed and walked slowly to meet Daryl in the center of the room.

Daryl looked him right in the eye. And maybe those baby blues were shining a little, but maybe it was just Shane’s overeager imagination.

“You,” Daryl rasped, coughing once to clear his throat and swallowing hard. He held Shane’s gaze. “You love me?”

Shane shot him a sheepish smile. “Yeah, Daryl. I do.”

The air around them froze in place.

And then Daryl kissed Shane so hard that it knocked the wind out of him.

Shane gasped into Daryl’s mouth, and nearly fell to the floor. “Fuck, Dar—“ But Daryl wouldn’t let him get a word in, plastering their mouths together and kissing Shane like his life depended on it. He walked them backwards until Shane’s calves hit the edge of the bed, then pushed Shane onto his ass none too gently.

“Daryl…” Shane breathed, looking up at the younger boy and watching his eyes shift from cornflower light to an electric midnight hue that was all need.

“Missed you,” Daryl whispered as he leaned down to join Shane on the bed, “Missed you, Shane.” And when Shane grazed his fingers up Daryl’s chest, letting them linger on his neck and looking up at him like he couldn’t believe the younger Dixon existed, Daryl thought that maybe this was what relief felt like. Acceptance that ran deep, and a dull joy that shined bright and warm as sunlight on skin.

He leaned down to press his lips to Shane’s once more, this time slower, without the desperate haste of before, but with longing just as potent and grave. Daryl pushed Shane onto his back and spread himself above him, and it was far too easy for their towels to be slipped away and chucked to the floor, still-damp bodies gliding together like they’d been crafted for just this purpose.

Shane snuck a hand between them to grasp both their lengths, giving a firm tug that had Daryl pushing his forehead into Shane’s and moaning deeply. But his eyes were open, and for once in his life, he knew exactly what he wanted.

Daryl slid out of Shane’s hold and sucked a pattern of possessive marks across the other boy’s collarbone. He nipped at one of Shane’s nipples, tongued the sensitive patch of skin above his belly button, and bit hard at each powerful hipbone. And only when Shane was watching him fixedly, panting and wrecked and straining to keep his head aloft, did Daryl slowly take the older boy’s cock into his mouth.

Shane threw his head back with a groan, and couldn’t help but buck plaintively into the warm, wet heat Daryl was providing. He knew that somewhere in the last few minutes, he should have put up a fight. He should have told Daryl to stop, assumed that this was a heat-of-the-moment mistake. But the fire in Daryl’s eyes was nothing but certain, wanting, and not one bit frantic or afraid. And really, Shane didn’t want this to stop. He wanted to relive this moment continuously until he was walking with a hunch and his hair was wiry and gray.

“Daryl,” Shane moaned as Daryl slid his lips leisurely up and down Shane’s length, “Fuck, Daryl, I missed you. Want you—god, I’ve got to—c’mere,” he demanded, abruptly pulling Daryl off of him and up to his mouth again, and sealing their lips in a kiss. He pinned Daryl sharply to the bed, and was surprised when Daryl gasped in clear enjoyment. That was something they’d have to explore later. But now, Shane couldn’t wait a second more. He leaned down and took Daryl into his throat in a single go, humming as he went and watching Daryl shiver all down his spine.

“Shane, god,  _Shane._ ”

The younger boy’s back arched up off the bed, and though his hands remained where Shane had placed them, they fisted into the sheets like those flimsy strips of cotton were his last lifeline. It was everything Daryl had been longing for: the affection in Shane’s eyes, the careful way the boy worshipped his body, the closeness. And it wasn’t a minute more before the sensations all became too much, too good and too fast.

“Shane, stop,” Daryl gasped, gripping the older boy’s hair and tugging pointedly. “S-stop, please.”

Shane pulled off with a slick pop, and looked up at Daryl. He sucked bruises along the inside of his thighs. “Why stop?”

Daryl flushed. “Don’t—don’t wanna come yet.”

That earned him Shane’s most predatory of grins. “Oh yeah? And what if I want you to come now, and then again later? You gonna stop me?”

“Not—not yet,” Daryl argued through heaving breaths, trying to ignore the tempting heat as Shane exhaled against the base of his cock.

“Maybe we shouldn’t be leavin’ a decision like that up to you,” Shane teased, “I bet I know what you want better than you do, huh Daryl?”

“ _No_ , I want—fuck, I wanna—not yet, not like—“ Daryl tried to get out, had almost managed to explain, until Shane sucked the head of his cock right back into his mouth and swirled his tongue in a way that nearly sent him over the edge. Daryl had to shove Shane off of him by his shoulders. “Jesus, Shane,” Daryl griped with mock sourness, but the other boy only laughed.

Shane rocked back on his heels and held his arms open. “Alright then, you don’t want me to suck you off. Then what do you want, Daryl? Where you want me?”

Daryl immediately hopped to his feet as well, dragging Shane over to the head of the bed and shoving him down to sit so his back was against the headboard. Even though Shane had been the one to hand over the reins, he was surprised by how definitive Daryl was with his movements. What he didn’t know, and what Daryl would never tell him, was that the younger Dixon had thought about this dozens of times over the past few months. How and where and  _if._

With Shane sitting propped against the wall, Daryl didn’t hesitate to straddle him, kissing him by means of distraction while he reached for the bedside table. He shoved the small tube of lube into Shane’s hand without opening his eyes, but felt the other boy smile against his lips.

“So that’s what you want,” Shane laughed breathlessly, “Want my fingers in your ass? Makin’ you feel so good? Fuckin’ greedy…”

Daryl nipped at his lower lip just a mite too hard. “Don’t fuckin’ tease,” he warned, because he wanted this, and he wanted it with Shane, and he wanted it  _now._

But Shane was taking his fucking time about it, making a show of slicking up his fingers, then slipping them underneath Daryl’s body to barely graze over the puckered ring of muscle.

Daryl let out a long, slow breath through his nose. “Shane…” he whispered.

“I know, man,” Shane replied quietly, and even though the lust in his eyes was still burning strong, Daryl could see that his playful manner had been replaced with a warm, meaningful sort of intensity. “I’ve got you now,” Shane told him softly, “You’re here, now.”

And Shane didn’t need to think or plan in order to time Daryl’s next exhaled breath with precise pressure from his finger, slowly slipping inside. He found Daryl’s spot with the ease of experience, and as soon as he pressed against the slightly raised piece of flesh, Daryl’s eyes slammed shut and he moaned lowly.  

“God, fuck,” he groaned, “Needed this. Needed you, Shane.”

“You’ve got me,” Shane promised them both as he pressed another finger inside, began to crook them more roughly into the spot that made Daryl writhe. “I’m here.”

Daryl’s cock bobbed and twitched between them, leaking steadily as the younger boy began to rock back against Shane’s hand.

“Another,” Daryl muttered in a rush, “Gimme another.”

And that made Shane pause, but only briefly. They’d never progressed past two fingers before—Daryl hadn’t expressed any interest and Shane hadn’t wanted to push him past his comfort zone. But Shane wasn’t going to deny Daryl anything at this point, much less something he’d been wanting to try for as long as he could remember. With some added slick, Shane pressed in a third finger beside the first two, and watched Daryl’s face closely for a reaction.

The younger boy’s mouth fell open, eyes dark but clear, and he moaned Shane’s name. Their mouths found each other again, as if snapped together by magnets. And even as Shane’s cock bobbed neglected between them, he couldn’t ask for anything better than Daryl Dixon grinding back onto his fingers and moaning against his lips.

But then a too-slick hand wrapped itself around his length, stroking from root to tip, and Shane cracked his skull on the wall behind him in surprise. His eyes were open, and he could now see clear as day that Daryl had the tube of lube in one hand, and his cock in the other. And god, it felt good to have Daryl’s hands on him again. But Shane forced the warm lull of arousal back, because this was wrong.

“Daryl?” he rasped in a sound that was far too close to a whimper.

“Mmm,” the boy in his lap grunted, watching his own hand work up and down Shane’s member. But that was not answer enough, because if Daryl was lubing him up, then this could only be going one way.

“Daryl, stop,” Shane whispered, clutching his free hand to Daryl’s wrist.

“Don’t wanna stop,” Daryl replied softly, catching Shane’s eye. It twisted Shane’s guts, because  _he wanted this, fuck did he want this_ , but he couldn’t risk losing Daryl again when he’d just got him back.

Daryl’s hand had him squirming, but Shane managed to gasp out, “Daryl, c’mon. Stop.”

And this time the younger Dixon listened, pausing his movements to look at Shane fully.

“You don’t have to do this,” Shane said, “You don’t gotta prove nothin’ to me. Don’t owe me nothin’.” He stroked his fingers across Daryl’s side, looked up at him with big brown eyes that he hoped conveyed just how serious he was about this. And just how hard he was fighting to keep his wants and his needs separate for once. “I don’t—I don’t need that, man. I just need you, here.”

“Ain’t doin’ it ‘cuz I think I gotta,” Daryl rumbled lowly, “I just…want it. Trust you, Shane. And—and I want this.  _Been_  wantin’ this. Fuck, just don’t say no, alright? I’m fuckin’ sure.” He took hold of Shane’s cock again, stroked him for emphasis. “Ain’t gonna regret this. M’not.”

Shane watched him closely, looking for the flicker of doubt or deceptiveness. But all he could find in Daryl’s cerulean pools was the same affection and want that he knew mirrored his own.

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” Shane finally murmured.

Daryl shook his head, and the corner of his mouth quirked in an almost-smile. “You won’t.”

It would be the exact opposite, if either of them had any say in it.

“I might,” Shane argued weakly. “And, it might hurt more, like this,” he said, indicating towards their position.

This time, Daryl nodded. “I know. But s’how I need it to be.”

Shane understood that Daryl wasn’t insinuating he needed the pain. No, the younger Dixon needed control, the sanctity of mind bought by keeping Shane underneath him, and deciding the pace and roughness for himself. Daryl took Shane’s silence to indicate indecision, so he pressed them into another kiss.

“Please, Shane,” Daryl murmured when he pulled away, “Please.”

And Shane was so very fucked.

Daryl swiped his thumb over the head of Shane’s cock, almost a nervous tic, as he waited for Shane’s response. It didn’t take long.

“We go slow,” Shane hopelessly bargained. But the smile that cracked across Daryl’s face right then made it all worth it.

“Yeah. Sure. Whatever you want,” Daryl mumbled too fast, stroking Shane outright once more and urging Shane to move his fingers in the same rhythm. And Shane could have laughed, if Daryl hadn’t rubbed his palm decisively over the head next, rendering Shane speechless aside from an unintelligible moan.

A few more strokes, and Daryl came up on his knees, poised over Shane’s aching cock. Shane grasped himself by the base, and leaned up to kiss Daryl hard. And when Daryl finally lowered himself down, Shane moaned loud enough for the sound to echo across the walls, while Daryl whimpered against the older boy’s mouth.

Shane gripped Daryl by his hips, hard enough to leave bruises, and helped the boy slowly slide down. When he was finally balls-deep, Shane couldn’t resist fingering the puckered skin where his cock disappeared. He looked up at Daryl, and found the boy biting his lip hard, with his eyes firmly shut.

“Fuck,” Shane breathed, “Fuck, Daryl...” He moved slightly, trying to press closer to the younger boy, but the slight shift was enough.

Daryl’s eyes shot open, and he moaned, _god_ did he moan, throwing his head back and digging his fingers into Shane’s shoulder.

“Ahh, Jesus, Jesus Christ…”

“Fuck, Daryl, you feel so good. You gotta tell me if I’m hurting you—I can’t—can’t hurt you— “ Shane babbled.

But Daryl shook his head rapidly, unable to speak. Instead, he rose up a few inches, then sunk slowly back down. Shane’s cock pressed hard to that spot inside him, and he panted hard.

“Shane, it’s—I—“ Daryl sputtered, before repeating the movement. And if Shane wasn’t too sure whether Daryl was hurting or not, the way the younger boy’s cock twitched and spurted pre-come when Daryl began to rock against him outright was indication enough.

“What’s it feel like?” Shane panted while his fingers mapped out the scarred skin of Daryl’s chest. “God, you look so good like this Daryl. Feel so good…”

“Fuck, fuck…” Daryl whimpered. “You’re fuckin’…big,” Daryl gasped out in what was almost a laugh. But then he pressed down in a particularly forceful movement, and all Daryl could do was moan. “God, Shane. Feels so good. Fuck—“

It was a fight for Shane to stay still. The tight heat of Daryl all around him was practically blinding, and Christ, he’d had sex dozens of times, but never like this. This was visceral, a sensation like he’d forgone his own body to occupy Daryl’s instead. And all he wanted was _closer, harder, more_ but he wouldn’t demand it. Couldn’t. Not yet.

Instead, Shane reached between them and took hold of Daryl’s neglected length, pumping him in time with Daryl’s stuttered movements and groaning in delight when the younger boy had to bite his lip through a moan. Daryl was using Shane’s shoulders for leverage, clutching them tightly as he began to ride Shane harder, faster.

“Ahh, I—I—“ Daryl gasped, “Fuck, m’close. M’so close, Shane, god…”

“Fuck. _Yes_ ,” Shane breathed, stroking Daryl faster and barely hanging on himself. “Gonna come on my cock Daryl? Gonna do it for me?” And god, he couldn’t help it—Shane’s hips began to cant upwards, meeting every downward movement from Daryl and sending the sounds of their bodies slapping together echoing out against the walls. “Fuck, I wanna see you—wanna see you come on my cock. That’s it, Daryl. That’s it. Fuck, c’mon.”

Daryl’s thighs were shaking, whole body buzzing with adrenaline and need, vibrating with how _right_ this was. There was a pressure building inside him, swelling and filling him up warm and whole. It was bursting to get out, squeezing at his lungs, and not even Shane’s hands on his neck, holding him steady, could keep Daryl grounded anymore. Those big brown eyes were watching him like he composed Shane’s entire fucking universe. And Daryl would never admit it, but being _possessed_ this way, inside and out, felt so much better than he could have imagined.

“Shane,” Daryl managed to rasp, pressing their foreheads together and holding on tight. “Shane, I—I can’t—“

“I know, baby,” Shane whispered back, not stopping to consider how that little nickname had managed to slip out. “Just let go for me. Let me see you.” _I love you. I fucking love. I love—_

And Daryl came. Came so hard his eyes slammed shut. So hard that his body shook and all the air was punched out of his lungs, and the only noises he could manage were unintelligible, whimpering moans of Shane’s name.

“Ahh! Shane! _Shane!_ ”

The way Daryl’s body clenched and fluttered around him, the way the younger boy looked, completely wrecked in his lap—it was more than enough to send Shane plummeting over the edge. His hips bucked of their own accord, and Shane wrapped his arms around Daryl’s back, moaning into the boy’s chest as he shot off in waves that startled him in their intensity, ripped out of him like a last benediction.

And things were still, after. Finally, blissfully still.

“Fuck, Daryl,” Shane breathed after several minutes of silence. They hadn’t managed to unwind themselves from each other in the slightest. “Fuck…”

Shane felt Daryl’s body start to go tight, and he instinctively pulled the boy closer.

“Shane…” he rasped, pulling back to look at the other boy properly. His eyes were a shimmery, ocean blue again. And Shane was frozen, terrified. _Please don’t regret this. Don’t do this. No—_

“Shane,” Daryl whispered, “Don’t… don’t leave.”

The way his words cracked broke Shane’s heart. Because why, _how_ could Daryl ever think he would?

But Daryl took Shane’s pause for something foreboding. “Please, please don’t. I know I deserve it—know I did it first. But please—I can’t—couldn’t take it—just, please Shane—“

“Daryl,” Shane cut him off, carding his fingers through the boys hair. “Hey, I’m not goin’ anywhere. I’m not.”

Daryl’s face was so fearful and open, wary to trust but trusting nonetheless, as if he didn’t have a choice in the matter. Even if he wanted to brace himself, bare down and draw up the walls that would make rejection easier, Daryl was too emotionally drained to try. But Shane could see that he wasn’t convinced.

“Daryl…I love you,” Shane said lowly, “I’m not gonna leave. Swear to god I’m not. But…but you can’t either, alright? You can’t do that to me again. I need you.”

“I won’t,” Daryl promised sharply, but his muscles were finally going lax again, helped along by the soothing motions of Shane’s hands on his back. “I won’t, Shane. M’here.”

“Yeah,” Shane murmured, sweeping his hands over Daryl’s body, “You are, aren’t you?”

And he smiled. And Daryl sighed in full-body relief.

Shane was gentle about cleaning them both up. He kept his eyes on Daryl’s, kept his movements predictable. Afterwards, they lay curled into each other, not quite ready to sleep. Shane’s hands drifted up and down Daryl’s back, Daryl fingered the birthmarks strewn across Shane’s hip.

But Shane did remember, was absolutely sure, that before he drifted off, he heard Daryl whisper one very important thing.

“Love you too, Shane.”


	18. Chapter 18

_He has to run. Run faster, run harder, because_ he _is gaining on him. And when he catches him—fuck, no—but his legs are moving in slow motion like they are dragging through quicksand and he can hear the echoes of that hateful voice closing in on him and God, he’d thought he could make it back home. He really had. But now_ he _is standing right in front of him, like a vengeful spirit, and looking at the blood dripping down toned arms and angular collars and laughing even harder. It’s only then that Daryl sees the blood too. Recognizes that it’s still warm. Not his._

_Fingers scratching, tears streaming, gotta get it off, gotta get it off, I’ve got to, I’ve got to—_

“Shh,” came a low rumble from behind Daryl’s cradled head, and his whole body jerked as he came plummeting down from his nightmare back into reality. What Daryl belatedly recognized as arms tightened around his body, but still, it took him a few moments to remember where he was.

“Shane?” Daryl rasped, voice still cracking from sleep and fear.

“Mmm,” Shane murmured, unwilling to collect himself just yet to face the day. “S’alright, Daryl. Go back to sleep.”

Relief hit the younger boy so hard in the chest that it left him reeling. He spun in Shane’s arms and propped himself on an elbow, needing to see for himself, needing to be sure.

The sudden shift jostled Shane into full consciousness, and he blinked up at Daryl’s earnest face blearily.

“What’s wrong?” he said lowly, “Y’okay?”

“Yeah,” Daryl breathed, raking his eyes lazily over Shane’s form in the morning light, and feeling unreasonably elated to be able to do so. “Yeah. I just…”

Despite the pause, Shane caught on, as he always did. “You thought I’d be gone.”

Daryl bit his lip. “I…I’d deserve it, if you were.”

Fingers traced their way up to the back of Daryl’s neck, rubbed soothingly. “No, Daryl. You wouldn’t. Ain’t nothin’ you can do that’d make me wanna leave, alright? And I ain’t mad about what happened. Fuck, I’m just happy you’re back, man. I’ll get ya believin’ that eventually.”

Daryl nodded slowly and settled back down into the bed, pressed much more firmly into Shane’s side than he would have been in weeks before. But he couldn’t stand to lose contact, even for a second. It felt as if the briefest loss of Shane’s touch might force the older boy to disappear entirely, dissipating the mirage.

It surprised Daryl much more than it should have when Shane closed the distance between them and pressed their lips together in a chaste kiss. But the surprise didn’t stop him from melting into it, pulling Shane closer and sighing against his mouth like this was exactly what he’d wanted, he just hadn’t known how to ask.

“Was it about your Dad, or…” Shane trailed off.

“Both,” Daryl mumbled.

Shane carded his fingers through Daryl’s hair. “Don’t gotta worry ‘bout neither of them, though. Not anymore. M’gonna take care of it.”

The younger boy grimaced, “Yeah, guess we oughta—“

“Nah. You should go back to sleep. Like I said—I’ll take care of it,” Shane interrupted him, prompting Daryl to frown even deeper.

“I can help,” Daryl argued, already sitting up in bed, but Shane pressed a hand gently to his shoulder to stop him.

“I know you can,” Shane reasoned, “But I don’t want you to. You saw enough of it last night. Just…lemme do this for you. I want to. Go back to sleep a while.”

Daryl sighed and rubbed at his eyes. “Ain’t gonna be able to sleep with you gone.”

Shane cracked a smile at that, “Well then, I ain’t askin’ ya to. All I’m askin’ is you stay here. And try not to get too wrapped up in your head while I’m gone.”

The corner of Daryl’s mouth twitched. “Ain’t makin’ any promises.”

Shane grinned and kissed him again, before throwing on a shirt and shoes and heading out the door.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

When they piled into Daryl’s truck later that morning, it still smelled vaguely of bleach. But the stench was far from overpowering, and even though Daryl tried not to look around too hard, even his vigilant eyes couldn’t spot the smallest drop of blood from the night before.

They pulled in to the Grimes’ driveway, and sat together staring at the front door. Shane didn’t have to look at Daryl to see that he was nervous, and unwilling to make any move towards going inside.

“Dar—“

“What if they say no?” Daryl blurted out, looking to Shane with those same wide eyes as the night before.

“They won’t.”

“They might. I took off. They’re supposed to be my guardians now, and I left without saying anything. It took fucking my life up to finally come back—“

“Doesn’t matter how you got back. Or why. You’re here, man. And they’ve been sayin’ every day since you left that you’d be back soon. Every damn day. They’re gonna be happy, Daryl. Like I was.”

Daryl was silent for a beat. “But—“

“And if I’m wrong, if the Grimes suddenly became totally different people in the last couple weeks, well, then you’ll just come stay with me. Easy,” Shane said with finality. And Daryl couldn’t really argue with that, so the pair slid slowly out of the truck and walked up to the front door.

Shane knocked once, then turned the knob that was always unlocked—largely for his own benefit.

“Hey guys!” he called into the kitchen, where he could hear the rest of the family clambering around as they put together a late breakfast. Daryl trailed behind him like a scolded puppy, hiding in Shane’s shadow. “So…uh…I got a surprise, I guess…”

He stepped to the side, and three sets of eyes looked up to greet him just as Daryl was revealed.

“Been here since yesterday afternoon,” Shane explained, “But me and him had some stuff to figure out, so…”

Shane could see how tense Daryl was holding himself, as if he expected to be screamed at or hit, or worse. And the first response to his sudden arrival  _was_  a scream, but hardly one of anger.

Mrs. Grimes shrieked and dropped the bowl she was cleaning right into the sink. The force of her colliding with Daryl’s still-unsure form was nearly enough to knock him down. But the arms he’d once classified as dainty locked around his body like a vice, refusing to let go, or even grant him enough room to breathe or speak.

When she finally released him, and it was a long wait, Daryl was accosted next by Sheriff Grimes, grasping him by the shoulders before thinking twice about it, and leaning in to hug him firmly instead. Rick couldn’t wait his turn. His arms swung in and took hold around both his father’s and Daryl’s bodies, hugging them tight.

Finally left to his own devices, Daryl stumbled back a step at the abrupt freedom. He looked between the three smiling faces in front of him, voice stuck in the back of his throat.

“I—“ he tried to get out, “M’sorry I left.”

The words left him in a rush, and the room was silent apart from his labored breathing. There was nothing Daryl Dixon hated more than being the center of attention. But it was clear enough that they were waiting for him to continue, and if he was going to plead his case, beg for forgiveness, then he best start off strong.

“Merle…” he began, then cut himself short.  _Merle ain’t your keeper. You did this._  “It was my fault. Shouldn’t have left, I just—just thought—guess I thought I had to choose. And Merle’s my family, ya know? For a long time he was all I had. When I was little, he used to protect me from my dad. Provoke him so that he’d get tired out beatin’ him, and leave me be. But Merle ain’t protected me in a while…and it ain’t his fault. He got left alone with my dad longer, pretty much his whole life. But I thought I owed him that, I guess. To choose him. Go with him ‘cuz he wanted me to.” Daryl found it in him to look up. “I was wrong though. Y’all have been better to me than Merle has in years and I…m’sorry.”

Daryl shifted his weight back and forth, crossed his arms protectively over his chest.

“We never would have made you choose, Daryl,” Sheriff Grimes said slowly, “We wanted to help your brother, maybe get him back to the person he was when you were younger. But we never would have tried to keep him out of your life.”

“Yeah, I know that. I mean, I know that  _now._  Listened to the voicemails…” Daryl said quietly, “But if ya let me come back, it ain’t gonna be a problem anymore, I swear. Merle’s gone anyways…”

“Daryl…” Mrs. Grimes began, but the younger boy grew panicked, sensing rejection.

“I won’t take off again,” he promised, “You let me come back, and I won’t go nowhere but school and home. Can help out around the house more. I—“

“ _Daryl_ ,” Mrs. Grimes finally interrupted him, “Sweetheart, why do you keep saying ‘let’? You’re family, honey. I thought that when we invited you to stay here, we made that clear. Leaving for a couple weeks doesn’t change that.”

Daryl looked from her to the rest of the family, seeming somewhat hopeful. “So, so I can—?”

“Daryl, of course!” Mrs. Grimes interrupted him again, and pulled him in for another perfectly stifling hug.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

After that, it was easy.

Too easy, by Daryl’s standards. And the prospect of anything coming easy to a Dixon made Daryl’s stomach churn unpleasantly. But there it was. The Grimes welcomed him back with open arms, never interrogating him about where’d he’d been or what he’d been doing there, but still checking painstakingly that he was unhurt.

His room was exactly the way he’d left it, aside from the fact that Mrs. Grimes had obviously been through several times to clean. The five of them spent an entire weekend crammed into the house together, sharing stories and laughing but mostly just enjoying the rightness of having everyone back where they belonged.

And maybe Daryl still walked on eggshells around them to some degree, apologized too often for things that were insignificant or simply not his fault, but the Grimes never lost their patience. The only instance of any lingering resentment from his absence happened that first night, when Rick pulled him aside while his parents occupied Shane’s attention.

“Hey. I’m really glad you’re back, man,” Rick said quickly, “But look—I gotta say this—if you ever pull that shit on Shane again, I don’t know what I’m gonna do. You  _can’t_ , alright? You’ve got no idea what it did to him. I’ve never seen him like that. I don’t care if y’all break up, or whatever. Ain’t gonna take sides. If you didn’t wanna be with him, that’s fine. But you can’t just  _leave_ , okay? Promise me that.”

“I won’t,” Daryl whispered, “I…I get it now.”

Rick nodded, “Good. ‘Cuz Shane, he cares about you, ya know? I don’t think you get how much…”

“I do,” Daryl said softly, “He told me. And I…we’re on the same page, me and him. So I ain’t goin’ anywhere. Not ‘til he asks me to.”

Rick’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but then he broke into a smile. “Finally said it out loud, huh?”

Daryl blushed noticeably, and grunted the affirmative.

But Rick just wrapped an arm around his shoulder and led him back towards the others, “Well it’s about damn time.”

TWDTWDTWDTWD

Shane and Daryl were both surprised by how often the Grimes left them to themselves over those first few days. They didn’t comment on those extended periods when the pair would disappear to Daryl’s room, and never judged the fact that neither could stand to be away from the other for more than a few minutes. Their family figured, so it seemed, that they were two hormonal teenage boys who had some catching up to do.

What they didn’t know was that Daryl and Shane were hardly seeking out closed doors to sneak in a quickie. After their first night together, the prospect of sex hadn’t come up once for the rest of the weekend. They instead spent their time alone pressed into each other’s sides, letting their nerves be soothed by the other’s presence.

And then it was Sunday night. And everyone was lounging in the living room, finally able to relax after so many days of uncertainty and worry. And no one was saying a word or giving any side-eye to the couple plastered to each other’s sides in the corner. And Mr. and Mrs. Grimes were chatting away about taking their boys on a family vacation when school let out.

And then the doorbell rang.

It rang once, and then again, and then three times after. And there wasn’t a person in the household who didn’t know exactly who was standing on the other side of that door. Daryl blanched, and looked to Shane for guidance.

With his jaw set, and a nod of approval from the Sheriff, Shane had slipped out the front door and shut it behind him as quickly as he’d opened it.

Merle craned his neck as the door closed, trying to catch a glimpse. And in that time Shane observed that the man wasn’t looking his best. There were deep, dark bags under his eyes, and his wrists were choppy and red as if he’d been scratching them compulsively. A Dixon family trait, so it seemed.

“He in there?” Merle asked him, without an ounce of the bite to his words that Shane expected.

“Yeah. He is.”

“I need to talk to him.”

Shane sighed. “He doesn’t want to talk to you, Merle.”

“Well then he can tell me that himself!” Merle snarled, growing more agitated by the second. He moved quickly, trying to bypass Shane and get to the door, but the jock held his ground.

“Man, what are you doing?” Shane hissed. “You had to know you wouldn’t be welcome here.”

“He’s my brother,” Merle insisted, chest puffed out.

“Merle...”

“No! I ain’t gonna sit back and watch you fuck with him. Turn him into somethin’ he ain’t. You need to stay the hell away from him.”

“ _You_ need to stay away from him,” Shane countered, “You really think he’s better off with you? After what happened?”

“Better with me than turnin’ into some kinda law-lovin’ faggot!” Merle spat. “I ain’t leavin’ unless you’re leavin’ too.”

“That’s not gonna happen, man. I wouldn’t do that to him.”

Merle’s voice dropped lower. “I’ll tell him, ya know. Tell him all about you getting our dad arrested. How’s he gonna feel ‘bout you then?”

Shane scrubbed a hand over his face. “Honestly? I’m pretty damn sure that if you told him, he’d still stay with me. ‘Cuz you see, he knows what you are, now, Merle. He’s seen it. But I also know that you are _not_ gonna tell him ‘bout that. ‘Cuz if you do, you’re gonna find yourself in jail as an accessory to murder. And none of us want that now, do we?”

Merle growled under his breath and stalked in place. “No. No, no, fuck all that. He’s my brother! I ain’t gonna let you hurt him!”

Shane stopped and stared at him. “You seriously think I could do any more damage than your dad’s already done?”

Merle glared at him hard, a beat too long. And slowly, Shane finally put two and two together. Merle didn’t know. He hadn’t a fuckin’ clue of what their father had been doing to Daryl since the day Merle first took off.

And oh, Shane wanted to tell him. He wanted to throw it in that asshole’s face, shove it down his throat ‘til the guilt choked him dead.

Instead, Shane paced back and forth across the yard while Merle started to ramble on about how Shane _didn’t know them_ and _didn’t know where they came from_. When he stopped, Merle did too.

And Shane said to him, “Look man, I don’t like you. But if you think that you can stick around town and be reliable for once, not get mixed up in the wrong shit, and be there for your brother, then by all means: prove me wrong. But if you’re even the least bit doubtful about that, you’ve got to leave. Leave, and don’t fuckin’ come back this time. It’s enough. You get me? It’s enough.”

Merle watched him for a moment, and Shane could see the cogs turning in his mind. His eye twitched, and Shane knew he was walking the thin line between reluctant acceptance and outright denial. And Shane found himself rooting for Merle Dixon, for the first time in his life.

_You know I’m right. Just do the right thing for once._

There was an ominous, echoing thud from outside, as Merle threw Shane’s body into the side of the house.

Daryl was on his feet in a heartbeat, and burst through the door to find Merle pinning Shane to the white paneling of the house. He was holding the younger boy in place by his throat, while he delivered blow after blow to his stomach. And Shane wasn’t moving, but it wasn’t because he was hurt. No, it was clear as soon as Daryl spotted them that Shane was downright _refusing_ to fight back.

He would have stopped to kiss Shane for it, if the situation weren’t so dire.

Daryl shoved himself in between the brawling pair, and managed to knock Merle back by jabbing him in the ribs with his elbow.

“What the fuck are you doin’?” Daryl yelled in his brother’s face, probably only the second time in his life he’d screamed at Merle. But god did this situation merit it.

Merle stood and panted, eyes on Shane instead of Daryl.

Daryl shoved him again, two-handed and hard. “You’re gonna hurt one of the only people whose ever given two shits about me? What the fuck is _wrong_ with you?”

His brother didn’t answer, just stared ahead, looking angry and frustrated but mostly lost.

“You gotta leave, Merle,” Daryl finally rasped, tucking his hands into his armpits. “Get outta town. Hell, get outta Georgia. But you gotta leave. ‘Cuz I can’t...” he sighed, “I can’t fuck this up.”

Daryl looked to Shane and gave him a nearly imperceptible nod before slowly walking back inside.

Shane righted his shirt and held Merle’s eye. “You could fix things with him, if you wanted to.”

Merle spat at the ground. “You just heard him,” he scoffed.

“Yeah, I heard him,” Shane said. “He’s pissed, yeah. But mostly he’s scared, ‘cuz he doesn’t know what to expect from you. But you could change that. Accepting that the Grimes are his family now too would be a start. Stayin’ out of trouble and keeping clean would be even better.”

Merle kicked at the dirt and shoved his hands in his pockets, but remained silent.

So Shane continued, “But I’ll tell you right now, man—if you don’t think you can do it, if you aren’t _ready_...then just leave. Don’t make him think things could be alright then take it away. If you can’t be there for him...then don’t be. Go. And I’ll take it from here. ‘Cuz man, you call him your brother, but you sure as hell don’t act like it.”

Merle gnawed at the inside of his cheek, then caught Shane’s gaze in the most sober expression the younger had seen on him to date.

“I love my brother,” Merle said, and Shane knew he meant it. He turned to go back inside.

“Then prove it,” he called behind him, before shutting the door.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

Daryl was waiting for Shane in his room.

“He gone?” were the first words out of his mouth.

“For tonight,” Shane replied.

Then quite suddenly, Shane was pinned to the wall by the second Dixon this evening. But this time, he was far from complacent. Shane fisted his hands in the back of Daryl’s shirt and thrust his tongue into the other boy’s mouth. With a buck of his hips, he was walking them both backwards, throwing Daryl onto the bed then tugging off his jeans while Daryl ripped away his shirt.

With Daryl bare and waiting, Shane took a moment to drink him in, grinning when the archer flushed at the attention. He skimmed out of his own clothes hastily, then leaned down and sucked one of Daryl’s nipples into his mouth, rolling it carefully between his teeth.

Daryl arched up off the bed with a surprised-sounding moan, and Shane had to release him to swallow a laugh.

“Still so sensitive,” Shane whispered, grinning. “Fuck, that never gets old.”

Cheeks reddening, Daryl turned his face to the side to avoid Shane’s gaze.

“Stop it,” he muttered under his breath, but Shane’s smile only grew wider.

“Never,” he said with a laugh, before stretching his lips wide and swallowing Daryl down to the hilt.

“Fuck,” Daryl whimpered, and one hand flew to tangle in Shane’s dark hair. “Fuck, fuck Shane...”

Shane’s mouth was warm and wet, travelling up and down Daryl’s cock so slowly that the latter thought he might die. He was about to beg, the words just on the tip of his tongue, when Shane released him and murmured, “Flip over for me.”

Shakily, Daryl complied. He turned onto his hands and knees and looked back at Shane over his shoulder without any hesitance, but eyes filled with a keen, lustful anticipation.

Shane traced the rim and watched Daryl shiver.

“You hurting at all?” Shane asked him, playful, but also needing that negative response.

“No,” Daryl whispered, and Shane pressed a little harder.

“You sure?” Shane asked him, “Not sore?”

“Nuh-uh,” Daryl grunted, pressing back. Shane slicked up a finger and pressed inside. He grazed over Daryl’s prostate with the lightest of pressure, watching the shudder ripple down the younger boy’s back.

“Just because we did it once, don’t mean I’m expecting it now,” Shane felt the urge to say, “Don’t ever have to do it again, if you don’t wanna.”

Shane rubbed gentle circles across that bundle of nerves, and Daryl moaned into the sheets. When he looked back at Shane, his eyes were glazed over, and a deep, dark blue.

“Want it, Shane,” Daryl said lowly, “Want you.”

That earned Daryl a particularly hard thrust, and he knew he was leaking against the bedspread.

“You want me, huh? Show me. Show me how you want me,” Shane asked breathlessly, two fingers hooked inside Daryl and scissoring slowly.

“Shane, Shane,” Daryl whimpered, writhing in place. “Want you, w-want— _c’mon_.”

“Show me how you want it,” Shane demanded again. “Put me where you want me, Daryl. You know I want it too.”

With a groan, Daryl pulled away from him and rolled onto his back. He looked up at Shane expectantly, and the older boy licked his lips.

“Like this, huh? That’s how you want me to fuck you?”

Shane fell onto his knees between Daryl’s legs and stroked leisurely over his length. It was no small thing for Daryl to hand him control like this, and Shane didn’t want to rush.

Daryl was not at all on the same page. He wrapped his legs around Shane’s hips and forced the older boy closer, grabbed Shane by his neck and smacked their lips together in a sloppy kiss.

“C’mon,” Daryl gasped when they broke apart, “C’mon, Shane. Said I want it.”

“Look at you getting all greedy,” Shane teased, lifting Daryl’s hips so they were aligned, and the boy was only half touching the bed. He slid inside slow as molasses, and Daryl threw his head back in a moan.

“Fuck. _Yes_.”

Shane bottomed out and took hold of Daryl’s shoulder, chest constricting when he realized he had control of Daryl’s entire body. He pulled back until just the tip remained in Daryl’s tight body, then thrust roughly back inside.

“ _Shane_!” Daryl cried, and his cock twitched and leaked against his navel. One hand shot out to grip Shane by his thigh, while the other twisted into the sheets in a desperate attempt to hold onto his sanity. 

But Shane was teasing him. He refused to build a pace, taking his damn time rocking in and out and watching Daryl squirm. He moaned and tried to buck against Shane, but the jock held him steady.

“Shane, Shane, c’mon. _Please_ ,” Daryl begged. Shane kissed him hard.

“Tell me what you want,” Shane demanded breathlessly. “Fuck, Daryl. You feel so good. Fuckin’ _love_ you. God, Daryl.”

Big blue eyes looked up at him. “Want...want you to fuck me hard, Shane. Show me...fuck, show me you want me too.”

Shane delivered. He fucked into Daryl at a pace that started off slow and toe-curling, but quickly became brutal, echoing slaps of skin barely overshadowed by Daryl’s incessant moaning.

Daryl wanted to hold out longer. But every time Shane surged against him, he managed to hit his prostate just right. And Shane was panting as he looked down at him, pupils blown wide like this was the hottest thing he’d ever seen.

Before Daryl knew what was happening, and before Shane had gotten the chance to wrap his fist around Daryl’s throbbing length, the younger boy was convulsing in orgasm. His body shook as his cock erupted untouched, come streaking across his chest while Shane watched and moaned.

Two more thrusts and Shane was right behind him. He plowed in deep, and Daryl could feel his cock pulse as he came. They collapsed into a sticky heap, trembling with the aftershocks.

“That was...” Daryl eventually rasped.

“Fucking amazing,” Shane finished for him, chuckling under his breath. “Jesus. Gonna make you come like that all the time.”

Daryl blushed hotly, then recovered. “Promise?” he asked with a twitch of his lip.

Shane smiled. “Hell yeah.” He pulled Daryl closer and grazed his fingers up and down the younger boy’s back. “M’ask you somethin’. Merle—he don’t know about these, does he?”

Daryl let out a long, slow breath. “No.”

Shane nodded. “Didn’t say anything. Wanted to, but I didn’t.”

Daryl answered with his eyes closed. “Can’t tell him.”

“Why?”

“’Cuz...’cuz I think he thinks he protected me. Saved me from our dad. Tellin’ him that asshole was on me as soon as he left...I can’t do that to him. S’better like this. With him thinkin’ he did somethin’ right, for a change.”

“Mmm,” Shane hummed noncommittally, pressing his face into Daryl’s hair.

“He was a good brother, when he was around,” Daryl continued quietly, “Kept me fed. Made sure I had what I needed for school. Even stole books from the library for me, when I was real little. Don’t think I ever had any good memories that didn’t have Merle in him...well, before you I guess.” Daryl added that last part in a whisper, hiding his face in Shane’s chest.

“He loves you,” Shane murmured, “We’ll figure it out. We always do.”

Daryl gnawed at his lip, then muttered, “Merle was the only person who ever said that to me, before you.”

Shane pressed a lingering kiss to Daryl’s temple. “Then at least me and him got something in common. ‘Cuz you’re pretty damn easy to love.”

Daryl snorted and burrowed further under the blankets, murmuring his affectionate reply into Shane’s side.


	19. Chapter 19

Daryl Dixon had always hated his birthday. When he was growing up, other kids would turn a year older and celebrate with presents and parties. For them, that day would be all about love and happiness and soaking up attention like needy little sponges. But to Daryl, aging was hardly an achievement, not when survival for other kids just meant sleeping in houses big enough to fit his old trailer six times over, and eating home-cooked meals every night.

When Daryl turned nine, his father had whipped him with his belt until he passed out in a pool of his own blood. And when he’d finally woken up, and tried to make a run for it, the fucker had chased him through the woods for damn near an hour, fueled by a combination of fury, adrenaline, and Bud Light. It was only by hoisting himself up into a tree, tense and dangling from the branches until the early hours of the morning, that Daryl had managed to evade him.

One more year alive had never been much to celebrate, even back when it had meant one year closer to leaving his dad and never looking back. Seventeen, after all, was just a number. And Daryl had no intention of making some big fuss over an event that had always wrought more bad than good. When that time of year rolled around again, spring bleeding into summer, he figured silence was the best policy.

But of course, Mrs. Grimes would not stand for that. Not in the least.

Rick’s mother was the type of woman to plot out birthdays months in advance. She’d mark them on her calendar, start buying supplies in the weeks prior, and decorate so thoroughly and with such remarkable frill that there were likely entire forests decimated by her fault alone. The day she and Sheriff Grimes signed the papers to become Daryl’s guardian, she’d gone home and written the words ”Daryl turns 17” on her calendar, with an exclamation point at the end, and some squiggly lines around it for emphasis.

As the big day approached, though Daryl’s mouth remained firmly shut on the matter, she enlisted the help of everyone around him to make magic happen. It took an hour-long argument with her husband before she conceded than an enormous party with all the neighbors probably would make Daryl more uncomfortable than not, and that a bouncy-house simply wasn’t acceptable entertainment for a teenager, even if he’d been denied that simple pleasure as a child.

In the end, they kept things uncomplicated: a surprise dinner with just the family, Shane of course included, and a healthy number of presents. Rick and Shane were tasked with distracting Daryl in the afternoon prior, so they brought him out to watch some new slasher flick, and kept their mouths shut.

Both snickering and stifling their grins, Shane and Rick hung back just a few steps when they arrived home, and allowed Daryl to be the first to swing open the front door.

“SURPRISE!”

Daryl quite nearly jumped out of skin. Rick’s parents were standing in the middle of what appeared to be a confetti explosion, in a place that had once been their living room, but apparently had been infiltrated by a rabid pack of hillbilly-kindergarteners. The walls were covered with streamers, the floor amass with rolls of fake grass, and a banner hung over the entrance to the dining room that read HAPPY BIRTHDAY DARYL in large, emerald letters.

Mrs. Grimes had seemingly concocted a ‘nature’ theme for the evening, as giant paper trees were taped to the stairway, and fake leaves decorated the furniture. Daryl stopped. He stared. He may very well have considered turning tail and booking it to the nearest plot of genuine foliage to avoid this heady mess.

But then Shane jabbed him none too gently in the center of his back, and he stumbled through the doorway, blushing wildly.

Rick’s mother charged forward and hugged him fiercely, before stepping aside to allow her husband to do the same.

“Were you surprised?” she questioned with an enormous smile, and he couldn’t help but grin back.

“Yeah,” he said, still taking it all in, “Pretty…pretty damn surprised.”

Mrs. Grimes beamed, then spun on her heel and immediately delved into a tirade about what was on the menu for the evening, and just how many stores she’d had to sift through to find tree decals that weren’t for Christmas.

Shane whispered in his ear, “Just smile and look happy, man,” and pinched his butt for good measure.

But Daryl didn’t have to fake it. Shell-shocked as he was, and wary of having everyone’s attention on him for the evening, he couldn’t remember a time he’d been happier. Taken aback, but happy nonetheless.

 Dinner was more than Daryl could ever remember having eaten in one sitting: salads, casseroles, chicken Parmigianino and three types of pastas. He was sure Mrs. Grimes was trying to kill him. And when after dinner, she came out with a cake that towered past her eyebrows, Daryl choked on his drink.

It was big, and black, with a ridiculous paper tree popping off the summit and shedding tissue paper like a case of bad dandruff. What appeared to be an entire box of candles had been stuffed into the cake in a circle at the top, creating a ring of fire. Three steps to the table, and the tiny tree went up in flames.

Sheriff Grimes hopped up out of his chair and smacked the tree to the table, dumping his glass of water on it and giving his wife a stern look.

“What?” she asked with a shrug, then turned to Daryl, “Alright, sweetheart. Blow out the candles!”

Sensing there was no way out of it, Daryl did as she asked. He didn’t bother to wish for anything, like he’d seen kids do in the movies. He had everything he could think to want; and wishes didn’t come true anyways.

After Mrs. Grimes shoved a third piece of cake in front of him, Daryl finally made some low noises about how tired he was, hoping to bring the night to a close.

Instead, Mrs. Grimes jumped to her feet and clasped her hands together in glee. “Oh honey, we haven’t even gotten to the best part!”

Daryl cocked an eyebrow at her and waited, not knowing what to expect.

Excitedly, she herded him back into the living room and over to the corner behind the couch. She strained to grab some things behind it, and when she turned around, her arms were filled with neatly wrapped presents.

And Daryl may have been pleasantly amused before. Surprised, but willing to play along for Mrs. Grimes’ sake. But when it finally registered to him that the decorations and the dinner weren’t presents in themselves, Daryl wasn’t sure how to react. He frowned at the gifts in her hands.

“You…you didn’t have to do all this,” Daryl said quietly, “Didn’t need…didn’t need y’all to make a fuss.”

Mrs. Grimes was completely unfazed. She smiled widely at him, “Well, Daryl. This is how we celebrate birthdays in the Grimes family, so you’ll just have to get used to it.” She winked at him, and shoved a small envelope into his hands. “This one is from Mr. Grimes and me.”

Daryl sat down on the couch slowly and peeled open the envelope with the utmost care. Inside was a birthday card. On the front was a dog sitting in front of a yellow house with red shutters on the windows and a white picket fence framing the yard. It said, “Welcome Home.”

Cracking it open, a folded up piece of paper fell out. Daryl unfolded it and read the logo at the top: Fidelity Savings. His eyes scanned down the page. It looked like a bank statement, but the numbers grew as they descended rather than diminished. A number in bold sat at the bottom right corner of the page,  **$46,730.00**. Still confused, Daryl read the note in Mrs. Grimes neat, deliberate handwriting.

_Daryl, I know you haven’t been part of the family long, but we love you like a son, and we want you to have whatever future you can dream up for yourself. When we signed the papers and became your guardians, Mr. Grimes and I started you a college fund. Use it to study photography or architecture, or to start a new business. Use it for whatever you want, because when you graduate high school, it’s yours. Please remember that you will always have a home with us. No matter how long it’s been, and no matter what’s happened since, we will always be your family._

_-Mrs. Grimes_

Daryl stared down at the note, then looked up at Mrs. Grimes, who was still beaming wildly.

“I know it might be…a bit much,” she said when Daryl sustained his silence, “But you’re an incredibly bright young man, and we have so much faith in you, and we just—we want you to have a future. Any future you want, sweetheart.”

Daryl looked down at the note again, cradled it in his hands as if it was glass.

“Never thought I could go to college…” he whispered, “No one in my family has. Didn’t have the money. Most of ‘em didn’t even graduate.”

“Well, you’re part of our family now, too. And if you want to go to college…the money is yours. For whatever you want to use it for. So long as you graduate next year, of course.”

The younger Dixon came shakily to his feet, and for the first time since he’d met her, initiated a hug with Mrs. Grimes. “Thank you,” he muttered into her neck, but she heard him loud and clear.

He finally broke away, and shot Sheriff Grimes a grateful nod.

Rick approached him next, handing him a poorly wrapped parcel and rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “So it uh…ain’t much, but…” he mumbled, and waited for Daryl to open it.

When Daryl peeled back the tape, out fell two very large paint brushes, a glossy print of a _Metallica_  album, and a wad of cash held together by a rubber band.

Daryl looked up at him, face carefully neutral. “Uh…Rick, it’s…”

“It’s for you room!” Rick exclaimed, suddenly realizing just how mismatched his gifts must appear. “You’ve been livin’ in it, but you ain’t made it yours yet. So, my present’s to help you decorate it, however you want. We can paint it, get some posters, even some different furniture…”

Finally, Daryl’s lips broke into a smile. “ _Oh,_ ” he laughed, “Yeah. That’d be—that’d be really cool, man. Fuck. Thought you were payin’ me off, for a second.”

Rick flushed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Sorry,” he muttered, “A note probably would have helped with that, huh?”

“Probably,” Daryl laughed, “Thank you, man.”

“Welcome,” Rick murmured back.

At long last, Shane meandered over from the other side of the room. He handed Daryl a large box, and when the younger boy ripped away the paper, he saw that Shane had gotten him a whole new set of bolts.

“Thanks, Shane,” Daryl whispered, “Didn’t need to do this.”

Shane smirked, “That’s only half the present. Other part I’ll give you later.”

Rick scoffed. “Gross, man.”

“Hey! I didn’t mean it that way!” Shane laughed.

Daryl took another look around. There were more boxes, wrapped and topped with bows, sitting on the couch and waiting for him. He eyed them warily, then turned to Mrs. Grimes.

“It alright if I open the rest of ‘em tomorrow?” Daryl asked, “S’just… a lot.”

“Of course, dear,” she answered easily, “It’s nothing crazy, just new clothes and books and CD’s. I know I may have gone a bit overboard—but you’ll have to get used to that. It’s part of the territory.”

Daryl smiled back at her shyly. “Think I can handle that.”

He sighed in relief when the rest of the family slowly funneled upstairs at the end of the night, leaving him and Shane to relax in peace. They retired to his room, and Shane made a show of closing the door.

“I wanna give you somethin’,” Shane said, picking his jacket up off of the desk and reaching into the pocket.

“A blow job?” Daryl immediately countered, feeling cocky.

Shane grinned at him. “One thing at a time, cowboy. First, this—“ He held a small box out for Daryl to take, and the archer opened it slowly, eyes darting between the object and Shane’s face.

It was a necklace. Simple and gold, with a small medallion that read  _22._

“Figured you ain’t gonna wanna wear my letterman jacket,” Shane explained, “But that number’s important to me, and so are you. Thought if I knew you were wearin’ this…it’d be like you were mine, all the time.”

Daryl nodded and looked up at Shane. “I  _am_  yours.”

The older boy smiled wider and pressed their bodies together. “Don’t gotta wear it, if you don’t wanna.”

“I wanna,” Daryl replied easily, and allowed Shane to wrap the chain around his neck and do the clasp. He fingered the cool metal, then smiled at the boy in front of him. “Glad you didn’t give this to me in front of the rest of ‘em. Might have been awkward.”

“S’not the only thing I’m gonna give you,” Shane said with a wolfish grin. He pulled open the top drawer to Daryl’s desk, and revealed his other presents. The younger boy peered hesitantly inside, letting out a long breath through his nose.

Shane had certainly been busy. There was a mishmash of toys sitting in the drawer, but hardly the kind you’d give to a child. The only one Daryl could readily identify were the handcuffs, and even then, the soft velvet cushioning each cuff wasn’t at all what he was used to.  He picked them up and ran his fingers over the cool metal.

“These for me?” he asked, and Shane grinned at him, eyes going dark.

“They could be,” Shane said, “Or they could be for me, too.”

Daryl’s eyes widened. “You’d let me do that?”

“I’d let you do anything you wanted. I trust you,” Shane murmured back, “And anyways, it’s  _your_  birthday, ain’t it?”

A slow smirk spread across Daryl’s face. “You got the keys?”

Shane plucked them out of the drawer and held him out to the younger man. “Right here.”

Daryl took them from Shane and placed them on top of the dresser, for them both to see. He walked slowly around Shane, the other boy’s eyes never leaving him, and settled on the end of the bed.

“Guess you oughta strip, then,” Daryl said, hardly able to feign nonchalance with how excited he already was.

Shane eyed him curiously, lips curled in a perpetual smile. “Just me?”

Daryl leaned back on one elbow and rubbed leisurely at his own growing bulge. “Just you. Like ya said…I like to watch.”

Shane’s eyes went wide as saucers, and he ripped his shirt over his head in a rush. He went for his belt next, meaning to jerk down his fly and be done with it, but Daryl tutted at him and he froze.

“Nuh-uh,” the younger man drawled, low and feral, “Slower.”

And fuck, Shane had always known Daryl had this in him. He’d seen it in vibrant bursts in the months they’d spent together. The want, the drive, that animal instinct that made you want to fuck and fuck  _now._  But seeing him in action, finally coming into his own, was a whole different beast.

Shane’s hands were shaking when he lowered his fly, and let his jeans slowly crumple to the floor. Daryl’s eyes pinned him in place, dark as the night sky.

“Those too,” Daryl demanded, nodding towards Shane’s boxer-briefs and licking his lips compulsively. “Want all of you,” he murmured, an echo of words Shane had said to him a dozen times before.

The jock held his gaze as he drew his boxers down to his ankles, kicked them to the side and resisted the urge to stroke his stiff length.

“Now what?” Shane asked, a little breathless. And Daryl rose to his feet swift and smooth like a panther, circling Shane and watching him closely. He picked the cuffs up off of the desk and twirled them around his finger.

“Go stand in front of the bed,” Daryl purred, and he was hot on Shane’s tail as the older boy came to a stop at the foot of the bed. Daryl grazed a hand up Shane’s back, squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.

“You sure?” Daryl asked him, and _there_ was the boy he’d fallen for, uncertain even when Shane was offering himself up on a silver platter.

Shane looked back at him over his shoulder. “C’mon Daryl, show me what you got.”

Still biting at his lower lip, Daryl ghosted his fingers down the backs of Shane’s arms and took both of his wrists in hand, clicking the cuffs into place. He watched Shane test them, tugging gently before letting out a long sigh and letting his shoulders slump.

“Get on the bed for me,” Daryl whispered into his ear, and gently guided Shane to his knees, cheek pressed into the sheets and ass on display for anyone who’d walk into the room.

Daryl reached a hand around to Shane’s front and slowly stroked his erection.

“Like you like this,” Daryl murmured, rubbing his free hand over the cleft of Shane’s ass. He slipped a finger between two firm globes and rubbed at the puckered entrance. “Back when this all started, you said you’d touched yourself here before. Said that’s how you knew it’d feel good.”

Shane moaned and tried to rock into Daryl’s hand. “Yeah...”

Daryl kissed the small of his back. “You want me to make you feel good like that?”

A shiver raced down Shane’s spine, and he pushed back against Daryl’s body. It was all the answer Daryl needed, and he shoved two fingers into Shane’s mouth, getting them slick with spit. He didn’t waste any time before slowly slipping one inside, and then another. Crooking them hard and massaging the bundle of nerves that always left him a complete wreck.

When Shane moaned into the sheets, cock leaking rapidly, Daryl knew he was doing a good job. He pressed over that spot and stroked Shane’s flushed member in perfect tandem, keeping his rhythm slow, so he could stop to enjoy every hitch in Shane’s breath, and every shuddering groan.

“You’re always takin’ care of me,” Daryl murmured, words flowing almost without his knowledge, “Love that you do. Ain’t never had that before. But it don’t mean I can’t take care of you, every once in a while. I like takin’ care of you, Shane. Seein’ you like this.”

Shane moaned Daryl’s name and his fingers twitched where they were bound.

“Daryl, Daryl please...”

Another kiss was pressed to Shane’s shoulder, and Daryl’s hot breath against his skin made Shane jerk and groan.

“You ever let anyone else do this?” Daryl asked him, a little breathless himself. “Touch you like this? Tie you up? Any of them _girls_?”

Shane let out a shadow of a whimper, and his legs began to shake.

“No. Just you. Just you, Daryl. I— _god_.”

Daryl moved his hands a little faster, listened to Shane’s breathing as it went shallow and harsh.

“You could come from this, huh?” Daryl murmured, voice thick like honey but with a spark of awe. “You want me to make you come, Shane?”

“Yes!” Shane gasped, so close to losing it, just needing _something_ —

And then Daryl’s hands disappeared from his body, and Shane let out a long, disgruntled moan. He rolled onto his back and sat himself up, glaring at Daryl a little but mostly just salivating when he saw that Daryl was now bare as the day he was born and stroking himself slowly.

“Think you oughta get me off first,” Daryl said, “Since I’m the birthday boy and all.”

Shane nodded and licked his lips, “Yeah. How you want me?”

Daryl smirked and motioned Shane forwards. “On your knees.”

Keeping Daryl’s eye, Shane sunk down to the ground and mouthed lazily at Daryl’s cock, watching those bright blue orbs bleed into a deep navy.

“C’mon,” Daryl whispered, petting the side of Shane’s face with one hand while he held himself steady with the other. “Suck it for me.”

Still looking up at him with big brown eyes, Shane didn’t disappoint. He sucked Daryl’s cock into his mouth slow as molasses, tongue providing just the right amount of pressure. And Shane let Daryl guide him, push his head forward until his nose was buried in the younger boy’s pubes.

“Fuck, Shane...” Daryl whimpered. He tightened his fist in Shane’s hair and began to fuck into the jock’s mouth outright, swirling his hips as if he were born to do it. And Shane was looking up at him like he couldn’t get enough of it, like there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

Daryl let out a shaky breath. “Fuckin’ love watchin’ you like this,” he said, rubbing his thumb gently over Shane’s cheek.

There’d never been a time in his life when Daryl would have thought a blowjob could feel like something important, something powerful and earth shattering, but Shane’s eyes told a different story. Daryl was losing control already, every other breath coming out in a moan as he rocked into Shane’s silky mouth and held tight to the other boy’s hair.

“Love you, Shane,” Daryl murmured, because he could and because it was true. And Shane moaned around his length, the vibrations making Daryl gasp. “Gonna come,” he moaned, “Fuck, Shane. Gonna come for you.”

And when Shane’s eyes went soft and hard all at once, shouting his affection and his hunger, Daryl’s body quaked and he came hard.

“Oh god, Shane—fuck, Jesus, _fuck_ —“

Even as he pulled the jock back, the older boy pressed gentle kisses to his oversensitive cock, watching Daryl fixedly. He took a moment to catch his breath, then pulled Shane to his feet. Daryl looked down at Shane’s cock, still red and throbbing.

“You must be dyin’ for it, now,” Daryl drawled, lips twitching upwards.

Shane nodded rapidly and pushed their bodies together, pressing their mouths into a messy kiss. “Need you, Daryl. _C’mon_.”

Daryl carded his hands through Shane’s hair, then turned on his heel to retrieve the keys.

“Lie down for me,” Daryl said once the cuffs had clanked to the floor. And Shane did as he said, lying back on the bed and spreading his legs lewdly, while still trying to claw Daryl towards him.

“I know,” Daryl murmured, “Don’t you worry. Imma take care of ya.”

He pressed a kiss to Shane’s hip, nosed the soft hair on the inside of his thigh.

“Daryl, c’mon, _c’mon_ ,” Shane begged, “Need you. Fuckin’ _need_ you.”

“Know you do,” Daryl said softly, and when Shane looked down at him, his eyes were that piercing blue again. Then he lapped the flat of his tongue against balls already hanging taut, and Shane threw his head back in a moan.

Daryl pulled one of Shane’s balls into his mouth gently, rolled the orb on his tongue and sucked just hard enough to get Shane arching off the bed with a shout. And when he began to pay Shane’s other ball the same attention, the jock couldn’t help the words that came spewing out of his mouth.

“Daryl, Daryl _please,_ just lemme come,” Shane moaned, “Fuck, fuck Daryl. Please. _Please_. Do whatever you want. Do whatever you want, baby. Just—please, fuck, _please._ ”

And when Daryl finally took pity on him, mouth sinking down on the twitching length that was aching for relief, Shane came without warning, pouring himself into Daryl’s throat before the younger man had managed a single stroke. Shane’s body bowed off the bed with the intensity of it, arms flying up above his head as he moaned Daryl’s name into his bicep, trying to stifle the noise.

After a beat, Daryl sat back on his heels and wiped his mouth with his palm, smirking hard. They both pulled on some shorts, mainly out of habit, and sat kissing on the bed. Slow this time, finally sated. Shane slid his fingers over the scars on Daryl’s back, and grinned into the kiss when the younger boy didn’t even flinch.

But then there were some shouts from the foyer, and the front door slammed. And before either Shane or Daryl could move a muscle, or even register just whose voice they were hearing, the door swung open with a thud.

Merle Dixon stepped heavily into the frame, with a parcel wrapped in newspaper tucked under one arm and a six-pack in the other. He took one look at Daryl’s back, and froze.


	20. Chapter 20

Daryl Dixon could count the number of times he’d seen his big brother speechless on a single hand. The first had been when Daryl was only seven. They were out hunting together, Daryl toting an enormous rifle that he was only just large enough to raise properly. Afternoon had bled into evening, but they still had a long way to go before making it home, if they did make it home at all.

The first sign of trouble was the quiet. Merle was up ahead with the crossbow, leading the way through the darkness. And when the forest around them went silent, he came to a stop, kept his breathing shallow, and waited. Merle turned back to catch his brother’s eye, remind him to stay silent and sharp.

But then there was a hiss and a whoosh of air, punctuated by a gunshot. Merle crouched to the ground on instinct, and when he opened his eyes, his baby brother still had his rifle pointed at the space behind him. Merle checked over his shoulder, and on the ground with a _head shot_  of all things was a fully grown, rabid bobcat. It was still foaming at the mouth, twitching with its last bolts of life.

Merle stood up straight and stared at it a long time, mouth hanging open but tongue lying dead in his mouth. After a long while, much too long for Daryl’s liking, Merle finally looked up at him and said, “Good shot, brother.”

Too shaken to continue on, they’d hiked back home as the sun rose up, hardly speaking a word to one another. Years later, Daryl would be introduced to some of Merle’s friends from town. And when they’d hear his name, they’d come over to shake his hand and go, _“_ That  _Daryl? The one who took out the bobcat?”_  And it would take all of Daryl’s willpower not to break out in a brilliant smile.

At the time, Merle’s silence had filled Daryl with a sense of pride, fueled by the adrenaline of the kill. Now, Daryl only felt dread. He would have been fumbling to pull on a shirt if he could have managed to move. But instead, he watched Merle watch him, caught in a perpetual flinch.

When the silence broke, it did so with a resounding crack.

“I didn’t know he was—“ Merle sputtered.

“He did,” Daryl cut him off, eyes going hard. “Did the same to you. That’s why you left first.”

He could feel Shane watching him closely. Merle was doing the same.

“Kid,” Merle said gruffly, looking to Shane, “Why don’t you step out a minute so me and my brother can talk?”

Shane looked to Daryl in turn. “That alright with you?” Shane asked. “Ya need anythin’?”

Daryl nodded minutely. “Just…stick around,” Daryl said, but inflected it as if it were a question.

Shane reached out and squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, then made a point of fingering the necklace still lying delicately across his collar bone. “Don’t gotta ask for that, man.”

Daryl gave him a final nod, and Shane walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Merle trudged over to the bed and sat down heavily next to his brother. They didn’t look at each other.

“How long…?” Merle started to ask.

“Since Mom,” Daryl said quickly. There was a pregnant pause. Then Daryl asked lowly, “You really thought he’d just stop?”

Merle finally looked at him. “You never said anything. All the times I came home…”

“’Course I didn’t, Merle. You couldn’t do nothin’. No one could. At least…s’what I thought,” Daryl sighed. “Woulda just stayed there and took it, too…if it weren’t for Shane. Was different once he knew about it—made it real. I started stayin’ at his place or sleepin’ in the truck. Then one afternoon I went back to pick up some of my stuff, and Dad was already there, sent home for showin’ up drunk again.” Daryl scrubbed a hand over his face. “Did a real number on me that time. Couldn’t cover it up. Hell, I was so out of it, I don’t even remember how I got here. But the Grimes, they took care of me. Told me they wanted me to stay, and that was that.”

Merle was quiet for a long time after that, and Daryl was fairly sure his brother hadn’t a clue what to say. But knowing that Dixons sometimes took a long time to process the important things, Daryl reached between them and picked up the six-pack. He opened a beer and handed it to his brother, before taking one for himself.

Daryl watched from his periphery as Merle took a long draw from the can.

“Wish you’d told me,” Merle said lowly.

“Why?” Daryl answered, without any malice in his voice. “You couldn’t have done nothin’.”

“I coulda  _killed_ him,” Merle growled, the intensity of the statement startling Daryl from the surreal nature of the moment. Daryl looked at him with his eyebrows raised. “It was never supposed to be you, baby brother.  _Never_. I  _told_  him…. _fuck_ ,” Merle spat. “I got half a mind to break my parole, just so I can get sent down to county and  _kill_  that motherfucker.”

“You know that ain’t the way,” Daryl murmured, pleaded with his older brother.

Merle’s grimace softened. “I  _know_ ,” he said much too sharply, and then with a defeated sigh, “I know.”

“Anyways,” Daryl said after a beat, “Shane says he’s got first dibs.”

Merle snorted and chugged the rest of his beer, crushing it in his hand but thinking twice about chucking it to the corner carelessly like he might have at his own home. He set it down on the bed instead, and looked at Daryl out of the corner of his eye.

“Yeah,” Merle said, “You always were the sweet one.”

Daryl cringed and stared at his feet. “Ain’t gay,” he mumbled, and was surprised when Merle responded with a full-bodied laugh.

“So you were tradin’ spit with that muscle head just for shits ‘n giggles?”

Merle noticed when Daryl flinched at that, reeling as if he’d been hit. So Merle butted him with his shoulder amicably and said, “I ain’t gonna disown ya, if that’s what you’re worryin’ about.”

Daryl peered up at him through a curtain of messy locks. “You’re not?”

“Ain’t sayin’ I’m ‘bout to help ya braid yer hair and pick out purses, but no,” Merle replied. “Gonna take some getting used to…and if that fucker hurts you I’ll break his legs off and feed ‘em to him…”

“He won’t,” Daryl said immediately, “He ain’t like that. And I was serious ‘bout likin’ girls, Merle. Still do. I think…I think s’just Shane.”

Merle cocked an eyebrow at him curiously. “Yeah? What’d he do to deserve that?”

“Plenty,” Daryl sighed, finally relaxing a little now that the worst was over. “You’ll see if…if ya stick around, I guess.”

Merle popped open another beer. “Ya want that?”

“’Course,” Daryl replied easily, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, before finishing his own drink.

The elder Dixon bit back a smile, and leaned down to pick his poorly-wrapped parcel up off the floor. He shoved it nonchalantly into Daryl’s lap.

“Didn’t forget your birthday,” Merle said pointedly.

Daryl grinned at him, feeling much younger all of the sudden and nearly giddy. “Ya never have.”

And it was true, even when Merle had been away in juvie or jail, or over the couple of years he’d spent in the army, Daryl’s big brother had always remembered to send a present. Half the time it was just some porn, or beer money. But considering Merle was the only person in his life who used to celebrate his birth at all, those little things had meant everything.

Daryl rushed to peel off the brown paper, and when he did, he revealed a simple 4x6 picture frame. It was sanded and stained, and Daryl could see that Merle had made it himself, apparently without losing any appendages in the process. He flipped it over to reveal the picture, and his breathing stuttered.

It was their mom. Back on the front porch of the house, long before she’d taken to drinking every waking hour of the day, and years prior to the night it burnt to the ground. Her hair was the light airy blonde that he remembered it, blowing in the wind while she laughed along with a baby version of himself, sitting on her lap. Merle was pressed into the space beside her, frowning at the camera but without any heat behind the gesture. They looked happy.

“Where’d you get it?” Daryl whispered, tracing his fingers over the smiling faces. They’d lost all their old family photos in the fire, and once their mother had died, there hadn’t been any happy memories to preserve anyways.

“One of our old neighbors sent it to me when I was in the joint last year,” Merle explained. “Figured you’d take better care of it than I would.”

Daryl took another long look at the photo, and then gazed up at his brother.

“Thanks, Merle,” he said quietly.

Merle’s eyes, the same ocean blue shade as his, glazed over warmly. Then he shook his head to clear it and cuffed Daryl roughly on the back of his neck, before dragging him in for a quick hug and standing up.

“Alright, Darlena. I’ll go tell her highness she can come on back,” Merle announced brusquely. He walked towards the door then turned back one last time. “I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

Merle walked through the house much more quietly this time around, and Shane rose up off the couch as soon as he caught sight of him.

“He okay?” were the first words out of Shane’s mouth, and Merle would have voiced his approval in different circumstances.

“Think so,” Merle instead replied with a shrug. He crossed his arms over his chest then let out a long sigh. “Alright kid, I’m only sayin’ this once so pay attention. When I first saw the two of y’all, I figured you were just jerkin’ him along to get into his pants. But s’clear enough now that it wasn’t about that. You coulda told me the other night ‘bout what our dad did to him. Hell, coulda shoved it in my face weeks ago. But ya didn’t, and I respect that. And I figure…so long as Daryl wants ya around, I ain’t gonna be on his case about it.”

Shane stood and stared at the older man, shocked into submission. “Yeah….uh….alright.”

“But listen here you little shit,” Merle abruptly spat, “You ever hurt my brother, you do somethin’ he doesn’t want, and I’ll chop off that prick of yours and shove it down your throat, ya get me?”

And  _there_  was the Merle they all knew and… tolerated.

“I get you,” Shane promised, “But that ain’t gonna happen, man. Daryl and me…I care about him. I wouldn’t hurt him. And I’ve done a hell of a lot to make sure no one else does neither.”

Merle rubbed a paw over the scruff on his face. “Yeah. Beginnin’ to see that.”

And when Merle finally strolled out the door and climbed into his truck, Shane was smiling in his wake.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

When Merle walked into the police station just after sun-up the next morning, he only realized once he’d stepped inside that this was his first time passing through those doors of his own volition. The rest of the people inside seemed to recognize that as well, judging by the stares he got when he strolled up to the front counter.

He wasn’t too surprised when Sheriff Grimes came out of the back to greet him, shooing away the lingering officers with a harsh glare.

“Merle,” he said carefully, “Wasn’t expecting you this morning.”

“Yeah, well, I ain’t exactly here to socialize, Officer Friendly.”

“That’d be Sheriff Friendly, to you,” Mr. Grimes countered with feigned sternness.

“How about Sheriff Shithead?” Merle spat, then let out a long breath through his nose and scrubbed a hand over his face, laughing. “Shit, old habits—ya know? No hard feelings, Sheriff.”

The Sheriff nodded, watching him closely. “Alright. What can I do for you today, Merle?”

“Wanna take a look at Daryl’s file,” Merle said, “I can do that, right? I mean—I’m his brother.”

Sheriff Grimes hesitated, “Heard you come by last night…somethin’ happen?”

“Nothin’ that wasn’t a long time comin’. Now how about that file?”

“You’re sure?” Mr. Grimes pressed, and Merle crossed his arms over his chest.

“Pretty damn sure, yeah.”

He watched the man disappear into the back, then return with a manila folder that was far too thick for his liking. The Sheriff placed it down on the counter between them, and then spread it open. He watched Merle’s face as he began to page through it, countenance disintegrating from careful disinterest to grief.

“We’ve had thirty-two domestic dispute calls since the fire,” the Sheriff said in summary, “Read the reports myself, before my wife and I decided to become Daryl’s guardians. For the most part, he wouldn’t even be there by the time the cops arrived—took off into the woods, in his truck, or just gone. The times they did manage to bypass your father and talk to him, he’d say he fell down the stairs. Got in a hunting accident. Far as I can tell, someone taught him not to talk to the cops.”

Merle’s lips were set in a grim line as he continued to flip through the countless incident reports. The twitch of his jaw was the only indication he was listening.

“Number of calls has gone down over the years, but according to the neighbors, it’s because they gave up on calling it in at all. Knew it didn’t do any good.”

Finally, Merle flipped to the most recent document—a series of photos submitted by Daryl’s social worker. And he’d seen those scars last night, the crisscross of lines that could only come from a whipping. But with the adornment of blood and bruises, they looked so much worse.

The Sheriff was watching his reaction. “You didn’t know.”

It wasn’t a question, but Merle answered anyways. “He hid it. Learned to from me, I guess.” Merle looked up at the Sheriff, “Look, I ain’t always been around for my little brother, but I’ve always loved him. I need to prove it, this time. I  _want_  to, wanna be there for him. Thing is, I ain’t so good at keepin’ my hands clean.”

The Sheriff nodded. “What are you doing for work?”

Merle shrugged. “Nothin’ much, yet. Ain’t easy getting hired, considerin’ the jail time and all.”

“Daryl’s pretty good with cars, from what I’ve seen. You teach him?”

Merle grinned. “’Course. Everything he knows.”

“I happen to know Ben McAlister’s been looking for a new mechanic.”

“That garage on Maple?”

“Mmhmm,” the Sheriff confirmed, “Tell you what—I’ll have a talk with him and put in a good word  _if_  you come over for dinner tonight.”

“Gonna find me a job and gimme a free meal? You got yourself a deal, Sherriff,” Merle replied.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

Merle arrived on time, wearing a button-down shirt with the sleeves firmly intact and completely stainless. No one was more surprised than his brother. They sat across from each other at the dinner table, Daryl staring unabashedly at him in shock and awe as he listened to Merle chat away with Mrs. Grimes about pot roasts recipes and green bean casseroles.

“It’s a mighty fine meal, ma’am,” Merle was saying. “ _Damn_  good. Y’oughta write yourself one of them cookbooks, make some money off it.”

“That’s certainly an idea,” Sheriff Grimes said.

Mrs. Grimes couldn’t stop grinning. “I’ve always  _wanted_  to do that!”

“Ain’t no time like the present, that’s what I always say,” Merle replied, stuffing his mouth so full that he was struggling to swallow it down.

“So Merle, what have you done for work in the past?” she asked him.

“Oh, you know, odds and ends,” Merle said, shrugging, “Construction, cars...even did a stint down at that old cannin’ factory ‘round the way.”

“Being good with your hands—that’s a valuable skill,” the Sheriff said.

“Don’t I know it,” Merle laughed, “Saved my ass more times than I can count.” He frowned a little to himself, then looked to Mrs. Grimes again. “Sorry ‘bout the cussin’ ma’am. Old habits, an’ all.”

She smiled courteously and handed him the salad. And by the end of the meal, Daryl was pretty much reeling by just how well it had all went. The Sheriff and Merle disappeared to the backyard with some beers to talk about his “future.” Rick plopped down on the couch with his video game controller in hand, and Mrs. Grimes busied herself tidying up the kitchen.

Shane and Daryl didn’t need to look at each other before they were both slinking quietly through the house and back to Daryl’s bedroom. Shane had locked the door and careened himself forward before Daryl even realized what was happening.

“Want you,” Shane growled, and he was already jerking open Daryl’s belt with one hand, and popping open the buttons of his shirt with the other. He let Daryl’s cargos fall to his ankles, then spun him roughly to face the wall and ripped his shirt off his shoulders.

Shane palmed Daryl’s ass through his boxers and scraped his teeth over the length of his neck.

“You don’t want this, you best tell me right now,” Shane murmured, picking out a spot that would sit just under Daryl’s collar and sucking hard enough to bruise.

Daryl let out a low whimper and ground himself back against Shane’s lap.

Shane chuckled out a deep groan. “Yeah, you want it bad huh? Look at you.”

He manhandled Daryl over to the desk and shoved him face down roughly, pinning one hand behind his back. Shane stopped and leaned forward to brush his lips slowly down the scarred planes of Daryl’s back, and grinned to himself when the boy underneath him shivered and whined. He pressed a delicate kiss to the base of Daryl’s spine.

“Need to hear you say it,” Shane whispered, “You want me inside you, Daryl? Want me to fuck you ‘til you come all over yourself?”

“Yes!” Daryl gasped, looking to Shane over his shoulder, “Yes, fuck, _c’mon_.”

“Sound so good when you beg for me,” Shane rumbled as he drew Daryl’s boxers slowly down his legs. He settled down onto his knees and sucked another kiss onto the meaty part of Daryl’s ass.

“ _Shane_...”

The older boy laughed under his breath. “Nuh-uh-uh. You ain’t gonna cheat me of this. Been thinkin’ bout it for _days_ , fuck.”

Smacking his palm and knuckles against Daryl’s inner thigh, Shane urged him to spread wider. And when he did, the jock wasted no time before lapping greedily against the snarl of muscle revealed to him.

Daryl made a high noise in the back of his throat, tensing up briefly. But then Shane’s tongue moved again, circling around and around and creating a sensation that was quickly spreading throughout Daryl’s entire body.

Shane could hear that the younger boy was trying to quiet himself, very much aware that they were not alone in the house. From where he was, Shane could see the whites of Daryl’s knuckles as his hands clenched around the edge of the desk. His thighs trembled, and Shane took his cue to twist his tongue deeper.

“Shane, fuck, fuck, oh—“ Daryl whimpered out. He was rocking forward against the desk, the smooth wood providing only the slightest friction for his aching cock. But Shane didn’t let up. His tongue flicked and teased over pleasure points Daryl didn’t even know he had. And Daryl was a wreck, sweating and fighting to keep himself upright.

Lips hummed against him, and Daryl cried out from pleasure that bordered on pain, smacking one hand down against the desk.

“Jus’—just fuck me,” Daryl rasped in a desperate half-voice, eyes clenched shut.

Shane’s lips left him with a wet smack, and strong arms pulled him until he was standing, forced him up against the wall.

“That’s what you want, huh? Want me to fuck you now?” Shane groaned. Daryl tried to reach back for Shane’s belt, but the older boy grabbed him by the wrist, pinning both his hands back against the wall. He reached around Daryl and slowly stroked his length, pulling down his fly with his free appendage to unsheath his hard cock.

Daryl moaned and pressed his forehead against the wall.

“Shane. Shane, please…”

The jock pressed his lips just behind Daryl’s ear. “Tell me you want it.”

Daryl let out a shuddering breath and whispered. “I want it.”

Shane chuckled, lining himself up with Daryl’s entrance and loving how obscene it looked with him still clothed and the archer buck naked. “Not good enough,” Shane scolded.

Daryl shoved his ass back against Shane enticingly, letting out a whine that he’d tried his best to choke back.

“I _want_ it,” Daryl growled, “Need it. Need you, Shane. Fuckin’ need you.”

Smiling, Shane sunk into Daryl slow.

He’d never had sex like this before. Not with the girls from class, and definitely not with Daryl. But the angle was so tight, Daryl’s body so hot and welcoming, that Shane new the moment he sank home that he wouldn’t be lasting long.

It was only a minute or so before Daryl figured out how to move, grinding his hips back into Shane and panting each time the older boy’s cock prodded against his prostate. He kept his hands where Shane had placed them. Bit his lip to keep quiet.

Shane smacked his ass and shoved in hard.

“Fuck!” Daryl cried out, much too loud, and Shane freed up a hand to clamp over the younger boy’s mouth.

“Gotta stay quiet for me, Daryl,” Shane murmured. But his cock was saying other things, fucking into Daryl harder and faster, like he just couldn’t stop himself.

“Can’t—can’t—“ Daryl gasped. His fingers twitched against the wall. Daryl wanted desperately to touch himself, to find any sort of relief for the building wash of sensation that was forcing him to babble senselessly, writhe in place.

Shane’s thick fingers wrapped around the base of his cock, and Daryl let out a grateful moan. But when those fingers only tightened in place, keeping him on the edge rather than shoving him over it, Daryl’s breath started coming out in sobs. Shane bucked into him hard; and even against the palm of the older boy’s hand, Daryl’s resounding moan echoed across the room.

“You’re gonna do it with me,” Shane panted, trying to maintain some control over himself. “Ain’t polite to go off first, now is it?”

Pre-cum dribbled down the length of Daryl’s cock and over Shane’s knuckles. He had to fight the impulse to lick it off.

“Fuck!” Daryl moaned when Shane moved his hand to wrap around Daryl’s chest. “Fuck, Shane. Please! Wanna come. Wanna come with you. Make me— _make me_ —“

With a growl, Shane lost it.

His hand jumped from the base of Daryl’s cock to the head, fisting at the sopping tip, and Daryl wailed as he came all over the wall. Shane clamped a hand over Daryl’s mouth just in time, before biting down on the younger boy’s shoulder to muffle his own moans as he pulsed deep inside Daryl’s body.

They shuddered as they came down together.

And when Daryl finally turned around, allowing Shane to kiss him back to life, he couldn’t help but laugh when he realized the older boy was fully dressed.

They stumbled back out into the living room just as the Sheriff and Merle stepped inside.

The elder Dixon took one look at his brother and said, “Well, well, well. Someone got lucky.”

And even though Daryl’s cheeks went as red as a cherry tomato, he was smiling too.


	21. Chapter 21

The Grimes were taking Rick to a math tournament. A  _math tournament_ , of all things, and Shane was never going to let him live that one down. But after days of pleas and promises, the Sheriff and his wife had acquiesced to allowing Shane and Daryl to remain at home while the rest of the family headed off to Atlanta for the weekend.

When Friday afternoon rolled around and the Grimes left the building, Shane and Daryl were excited. But instead of breaking out the beer and inviting over every teen within a fifty mile radius, the shades were drawn and clothes thrown into the corner before the Grimes had so much as made it down the block.

“C’mon,” Shane groaned, overeager, as he dragged the younger Dixon upstairs. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon.”

He deposited Daryl on the Grimes’ bed—the one they had once shared—before skipping into the bathroom to fill up the Jacuzzi.

“They’re gonna know we used it!” Daryl called after him, lying back on the bed and flicking on the TV in the meantime.

“It’ll be worth it!” Shane called back.

Sighing, Daryl refocused his attention on the images flashing across the screen. The news never interested him much, especially when half of it was overrun with reports on county fairs and a significant lack of weather. But then a familiar face popped up on the screen, and Daryl’s blood ran cold.

Dropping to his knees in front of the television, Daryl turned up the volume just enough to hear it himself.

_Police have reported little progress in the ongoing investigation of the murder of Burt Philips, security guard at Bauman Jewelry. However, witness testimony has allowed sketch experts to compose this drawing of a “person of interest” in this heinous crime. If you have any information about the man depicted below, please call the number at the bottom of the screen. Be aware that this man is known to be armed and dangerous, and should not be approached or engaged in any way._

And that was it. The reporter switched to a story about the upcoming State Fair, and Daryl was left gaping at the screen, face pale as a sheet.

He’d never forget Cash’s face. Not after watching him end an innocent person’s life without a second thought. Despite his disappearance, that no-good felon still haunted his nightmares. And with his face now plastered all over the evening news, Daryl was sure Cash wouldn’t stay missing for long.

“Daryl, you comin’?” Shane called from the bathroom.

The younger boy scrubbed a hand over his face, and pinched at his jaw to try to get some color back.

“M’here,” Daryl murmured, walking slowly into the room. The tub was a mess of bubbles, and Shane was looking more than a little bit proud of himself.

Shane took in Daryl’s expression and immediately moved forwards to sweep him into his arms, guiding him gently towards the bath.

“You alright?” Shane whispered.

Daryl clenched his eyes shut, briefly, and pushed his face into the crook of Shane’s neck.

“Yeah,” he mumbled after a beat, “Just…cold.”

Shane pushed his bangs out of his face. “Well, I think I’ve got just the thing for that.”

The jock situated himself with his back against the porcelain, then helped Daryl to slowly sink down between his splayed legs. He leaned back into Shane’s strong chest with a sigh.

“Told ya you’d like it,” Shane murmured in Daryl’s ear.

The archer snorted. “Yeah. But that’s what ya say ‘bout everythin’ I ain’t sure of.”

Shane laughed, and water splashed around them. “And I’m always right!”

Daryl elbowed him in the ribs, but with hardly any force. “Shut up.”

Shane quieted his snickering and instead focused his attention on running his slick hands up and down Daryl’s chest. He flicked and pinched at the red nubs of his nipples, hard even under the warm water, and Daryl rolled his head back onto Shane’s shoulder. By the time Shane’s hands swirled and lazed their way all the way down Daryl’s body, the boy in his lap was achingly hard.

“Told ya so,” Shane said softly, taking the stiff length in hand and stroking gently.

Daryl’s back arched slightly and he let out a small sigh. “Well I ain’t the only one likin’ it,” Daryl pointed out, shifting pointedly against the thick, soft, rod poking into the small of his back.

“Damn straight,” Shane growled against Daryl’s neck, nipping at the sensitive skin. With his free appendage, he grabbed Daryl’s hand and guided it down between the boy’s legs.

“Watcha doin’?” Daryl murmured, lost in the feel of Shane’s fist wrapped around his aching length.

“You ever touch yourself here before?” Shane asked in turn, an echo of a question he’d asked months before. And even though Daryl had  _been_  touched there, many times by now, his answer was still the same.

“No,” Daryl whispered, “Just…just you.”

Shane groaned and bucked up against Daryl involuntarily.

“Fuck, you’ve got no idea how hot that is,” Shane moaned, “But now…fuck, now I wanna see you do it.” Daryl tensed a little, and Shane added, “It’s okay, baby. I’ll show you how.”

With a deep breath, Daryl let Shane drag his hand further down.

“That’s it,” Shane murmured, stroking over Daryl’s knuckles as he pushed one finger slowly inside. “That’s right, Daryl. Go nice and slow for me.”

Daryl whined softly as he moved his finger in and out. Then with Shane’s gentle prodding, one finger became two.

“Ya gotta curve ‘em,” Shane instructed, demonstrating with his own fingers, “Like this.”

The younger Dixon did as he said, and his entire body immediately jolted as he brushed over his prostate just right.

“Fuck,” Daryl panted, writhing against his own fingers now. Shane’s hand rolled and fondled over the archer’s erection, keeping him wanting, but failing to provide the friction he’d need to get off.

Finally, Shane couldn’t help himself. He reached his free hand down between Daryl’s legs and abruptly slid a finger in beside Daryl’s. The younger boy’s eyes burst open, and he moaned deeply.

“Look at you,” Shane said, “So fuckin’ good for me. Ridin’ those fingers like you were made for it.” He forced the fingers inside Daryl’s ass to press harder against his prostate, and Daryl’s cock twitched in his hand. “You want somethin’ else to ride?”

Shane whispered the words against the back of Daryl’s ear, and smiled when a shudder ripped its way down the younger boy’s spine.

Some rapid nodding, and Shane’s large hands were clamped over Daryl’s hips as the teen sank down onto his cock. Daryl threw his head back onto Shane’s shoulder again and panted up at the ceiling.

“Fuck,” Daryl whimpered, “Fuck.  _Fuck._ ”

“Not quite,” Shane chuckled back, the movement of his body creating delicious friction between them. “Can’t be getting water all over the floor, now, can we? Gonna have to be nice and slow about it. Think you can do that, Daryl?”

Shane punctuated the statement by rocking up into Daryl’s body while simultaneously twisting his fist around the head of his aching cock. The younger boy whimpered into Shane’s neck, and one of his hands shot down to grip the side of the tub like it was his last lifeline.

They developed a slow rhythm. Shane eased Daryl up and down, movements smooth as silk. It took all of his self control to keep from bucking up into the blinding heat of Daryl’s body, but now that they finally had the opportunity to take their time with each other, Shane didn’t want to waste it. He wasn’t going to cave until Daryl was begging for it.

It didn’t take long.

“Fuckin’ love you like this,” Shane whispered, grazing a hand down Daryl’s chest. “You need it so bad, huh Daryl? Need me to take care of you.”

Daryl nodded with his eyes clenched shut. “Shane, please…”

“Please, what, Daryl? What do you want?”

The younger boy’s feet scrambled for purchase against the smooth floor of the tub, trying and failing to bring himself down harder against Shane’s cock.

“Wanna come,” Daryl bit out desperately, “Need to come, Shane.”

“Yeah?” Shane teased, keeping up that same slow rhythm with his hips and his hands. “What’s stopping you?”

It was a heady rush to control Daryl like this, literally possessing the archer’s body inside and out. From this angle, it was all on Shane to move the younger Dixon’s tight form up and down his rigid length. He could feel the way Daryl’s body trembled with every rough jab against his prostate. And even under the water, the low throb of Daryl’s cock couldn’t be ignored.

Shane cupped Daryl’s balls with one hand, and used the other to move the smaller boy faster against him. Water threatened to slosh over the edge of the tub, but the drag of their bodies together was just too damn good.

Daryl’s breaths were coming out harsh and shallow, and Shane could feel his thighs trembling.

“Please. _Please_ …”

Shane’s hips jutted up hard into Daryl’s body, and his fist gave the younger boy one strong stroke.

That was all it took. Daryl tensed up taut as steel above him, and then abruptly melted into Shane’s body.

“ _Shane_. Oh. Oh, _fuck_ …” Daryl moaned. His cock twitched and jerked in the older boy’s hand, shooting strings of white out into the water.

The feel of Daryl clenching around him was more than enough have Shane coming right along with him, holding Daryl tight to his chest as he rode out the aftershocks.

They fell into bed together still damp, both slipping into sleep with smiles on their faces.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

Shane woke up hard against Daryl’s hip, already grinning at the prospect of spending the rest of the weekend naked in bed together.

He could feel Daryl shivering next to him, maybe just as turned on as he was.

“Mornin’,” Shane murmured into Daryl’s neck. There was a pause. No response.

Shane frowned and propped himself on one elbow, reaching over Daryl’s back to turn the boy towards him.

Daryl fought him, shaking even harder and curling in on himself. It was only then that Shane registered the unbridled  _heat_  coming off of Daryl’s body.

“Daryl?” Shane whispered. He pressed a hand to the younger boy’s forehead, and hissed at the flame licking out from under his skin. “Shit,” Shane muttered, “You’re burning up.”

Shane hopped out of bed and went straight for the bathroom, grabbing some Aspirin and a bottle of water. He got down on the floor on Daryl’s side of the bed and combed his fingers through the boy’s sweat-damp locks.

“Daryl?” Shane tried again, “Need you to take these for me, okay? Just a little sip, then you can go back to sleep.”

Bloodshot eyes flickered open and he gave the slightest nod. With Shane’s help, Daryl sat up enough to down a few pills. Even the small exertion seemed to leave him exhausted.

“That’s better,” Shane murmured soothingly, “Now ya just gotta get some rest. Get this out of your system.”

No sooner had he said it than Daryl bolted up in bed with wide eyes. He lurched past Shane and straight for the bathroom, expelling all the contents of his stomach into the toilet.

Daryl slumped against the wall, shaking from head to toe. It took a long while before the heaving stopped. When it finally did, Shane watched closely as Daryl struggled to get to his feet. One step, and the archer was plummeting towards the floor, only to be saved by Shane’s quick reflexes.

The jock helped him back into bed and tucked him under the covers.

“Think you can try to take some Aspirin again?” Shane asked him.

Daryl only shuddered, shaking his head. “Hurts,” he rasped, his voice an echo of its usual timbre, “Think…think I’ll just puke ‘em back up.”

“That’s okay,” Shane said, “We can try again in a little while. Is it just your stomach, and the fever?”

Daryl’s teeth chattered as he stuttered out, “D-d-don’t feel good.” He seemed to want to say more, but then his vision swam and he curled back up into the bed.

“Yeah, I know. But I’ll take care of you, alright? Just get some sleep.”

Daryl passed out almost immediately after.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

Two hours of checking on Daryl every ten minutes, and Shane figured it was well time for the younger boy to get some fluids into him. The fever had only been climbing, as far as Shane could tell. And despite Daryl’s shivering, he was sweating straight through the sheets.

Shane knelt down beside him and shook Daryl’s shoulder gently.

“Daryl?”

The archer’s eyes darted back and forth behind his lids, but Daryl didn’t rouse.

Shane shook him harder. “Daryl?!”

Still nothing, and Shane was immediately on his feet, pacing. He grabbed Daryl’s phone up off of the bedside table and called the only number he could.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

There was a heavy knock on the front door. It rattled the windows, and Shane rushed to answer it.

“Where is he?”

Shane jerked his head towards the back of the house. Broad shoulders pushed right past him and barreled towards Daryl’s bedroom.

The man stopped just inside the doorframe and let out a long breath through his nose.

Daryl looked even worse than before. All the color had drained from his face, and his skin was balmy with sweat. Even in his sleep, tremors tore through his body. His breathing was uneven, and far too fast.

“Shit.”

“He won’t wake up,” Shane quickly informed, “Tried to give him some Aspirin for the fever, but he couldn’t keep it down. I…I didn’t know who else to call.”

Heavy footfalls padded up to the side of Daryl’s bed, and a large paw laid itself over the sick teen’s forehead.

“Jesus. He’s like a fuckin’ furnace.” He looked back at Shane. “We gotta cool him down. If he ain’t takin’ pills, then I reckon there’s one other way we can do it. But he ain’t gonna love us for it.”

Shane tried to smile, but his lips refused to perk from their grimly set line. “Doesn’t matter, as long as it gets him to wake up.”

The man nodded, then turned back to Daryl. “Alright, baby brother. Let’s do this.”

Merle picked up his younger brother bridal style, and carried him into the bathroom. Shane pumped up the cold water in the shower by the older Dixon’s request. And with a deep breath, Merle stepped in along with Daryl, and sat down with his back against the wall.

The younger Dixon gasped, flailed, and very abruptly reanimated.

“S-s-stop.  _Stop_ ,” Daryl begged, fighting weakly against Merle’s grip.

Merle only held him tighter. “C’mon, brother. Gotta cool you down. Can’t have ya goin’ up in flames and takin’ out this nice house with ya.”

Daryl shook like a leaf in Merle’s arms, sobbing into his chest with every full breath he managed to pull in. Between his ceaseless trembling and distressed gasps, neither Shane nor Merle could make out much of what Daryl was saying. They were grateful for it. But it was easy enough to tell from his tone that the younger Dixon was suffering.

Shane knelt beside the tub. “Just a little bit longer,” he murmured, “We’re just tryin’ to help, Daryl. I swear. You’re doin’ so good.”

Daryl didn’t respond. He hunched further into Merle’s chest, if only for the promise of some fleeting warmth.

The jock was surprised to see Merle roughly run his fingers through Daryl’s hair.

“He’s right, brother. You’re doin’ real good,” Merle said softly. “Almost done, now.”

It was several more minutes of Merle’s uncharacteristically gentle, soothing words and Daryl’s muffled whimpering, before Merle and Shane shared a nod of understanding, and worked together to get Daryl up and back towards the bed.

Once they’d managed to get him into a dry set of clothes, Merle looked to Shane.

“You stay with him. Cold shower ain’t gonna work for long if we don’t get some drugs into him,” Merle said.

“I know, but he couldn’t keep it down. Took so long for him to calm down the first time, I couldn’t get him to try again,” Shane sighed.

“Yeah, well, that’s why I’m here,” Merle replied gruffly. “Got just the thing for it. Old family recipe.”

With that, Merle left Shane to care for his still-shivering brother. Shane cradled the younger boy in his arms and waited anxiously for Merle to return.

The cup Merle toted back into the room was steaming; and the liquid inside was an odd greenish color that couldn’t have been natural.

“Prop his head up,” Merle ordered. He placed the lip of the mug against Daryl’s mouth, pinched his brother’s nose shut, and tipped the mystery fluid back into the sick boy’s waiting throat.

Daryl wheezed when Merle finally pulled back, coughing up a storm.

“Did you really have to do it that way?” Shane groused, rubbing Daryl’s back slowly and trying to calm him.

Merle shrugged. “His stomach will take this stuff just fine. But it ain’t exactly lemonade.”

Shane peered hesitantly into the half-filled cup. “What’s in it?”

Merle grinned darkly. “This an’ that. With some crushed-up Aspirin on top of it. Oughta get that fever down in the next couple hours. Save us all some grief.”

Shane nodded and let out a slow breath, then chuckled to himself.

“What?” Merle prodded, frowning hard at him.

“Nothing,” Shane said, trying to curtail his smile, “S’just...never thought I’d see the day Merle Dixon saved my ass.”

The elder Dixon continued to glower at him. “Ain’t _your_ ass I’m savin’. It’s Daryl’s.”

Shane cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Same thing,” Shane replied simply.

And Merle didn’t know quite what to say to that, so he said nothing at all.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

Once they’d forced the rest of the putrid liquid down Daryl’s gullet, he fell back asleep almost instantly. Daryl lay curled up in the center of the bed, with Shane and Merle on either side. The only sound in the house was his labored breathing.

Merle feigned flipping through some magazines to pass the time, but Shane couldn’t hide the fixed way he watched Daryl.

He understood that the younger boy wasn’t dying. But there was something about seeing him laid up like this, so helpless and weak, and in so much pain, that made Shane’s guts twist up in knots. It wasn’t right, seeing Daryl bedbound. The archer made a habit of never keeping still, always out trekking through the woods or pacing the length of his room or fiddling with his bow. Shane watched him now, and couldn’t help but think that Daryl looked too still.

Too still, and not at all peaceful.

As Shane watched, Daryl twitched, flinched, then shot up in bed with a pained gasp. There was panic in his eyes. Blue orbs darted back and forth across the room manically, but took in nothing.

“Woah, Daryl, it’s okay,” Shane tried.

“ _He’s coming,_ ” Daryl whispered, looking Shane right in the eye. His lower lip wobbled. “Don’t let him do it again. Please don’t let him do it. Don’t let him...”

“Shh, shh,” Shane soothed, pulling Daryl into his chest without giving Merle a second glance.

Even though Daryl had been going longer and longer between these bouts of nightmares, this scene wasn’t unfamiliar to Shane. Sometimes the blue eyes that shot open were the same ones Shane had fallen in love with. The hesitant, hardened gaze of his lover, trying his best to beat back the demons of his past.

Other times, the teary eyes that met his were another person’s entirely. Vulnerable, younger, and so very afraid. Those fleeting moments of regression always broke Shane’s heart, but the trick was to let Daryl come down easy. Once he’d registered his surroundings, recognized Shane at his side, the archer would lay back again with a sigh and let Shane comfort him through it.

But now, Daryl seemed to recognize nothing. As Shane gently petted Daryl’s head and back, he could feel wetness on the other boy’s cheeks.

“He don’t even get drunk for it, anymore,” Daryl mumbled into Shane’s neck, “He ain’t sick, like my Ma said. He just...he just likes it. I think he just likes it.”

“He’s not gonna hurt you,” Shane told him gently, “You’re safe, Daryl. He’s never gonna hurt you again.”

“Yeah, he is,” Daryl whispered. “He’s gonna kill me. He _hates_ me.” Shane saw Merle clench his fists out of the corner of his eye. “He won’t tell me why,” Daryl rasped quietly, “He says somethin’ different, every time. If I just knew what I did, I could fix it. M-maybe, maybe then he’d _stop_ , maybe if I just—“

“Hey, hey,” Shane cut him off, just as Merle hissed in an angry breath. “Don’t do that. You didn’t do anything wrong. Okay? Nothing.”

“Gotta be somethin’,” Daryl whimpered, “There’s _gotta_ be. Otherwise he’d _stop_ —“

“He’s gonna stop,” Shane interrupted him again, bracketing that train of thought. “He’s never gonna hurt you again, Daryl. You hear me? You wanna know why?”

Daryl let out a low hum of interest.

“Because I ain’t gonna let him. That bastard’s never comin’ near you again. Alright? I promise you. I’ll protect you, Daryl. Swear to god I will.”

Daryl gnawed on his lip a beat before murmuring, “Y’will?”

“Bet your ass I will,” Shane said back, trying to lighten the mood, if only slightly. “Now why dontcha try and get s’more sleep? Bet you’re real tired, huh?”

Daryl nodded reluctantly. “A little,” he admitted.

“Just close your eyes for a while,” Shane urged him with a warm smile, “You’ll feel better.”

He watched Daryl’s lids droop, but the archer refused to be lulled so easily.

“You’re gonna stay?” Daryl finally questioned, voice painfully small.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Shane confirmed. “I promise.”

At long last, the fight seeped out of Daryl’s body and the younger Dixon drifted back off. Shane could feel the tension radiating in thick waves from the _other_ Dixon in the room, but it was a long while before Merle managed to sort through his thoughts well enough to voice them.

‘That happen a lot?” he asked, looking Shane in the eye for the first time in hours.

“Which part? The nightmares or...the other thing?”

“Both. Either.”

Shane sighed. “The nightmares come ‘n go. They pop up more when he’s stressed, so bein’ sick like this is bound to set him off. As for the other thing...once in a blue moon. Usually he’s fine after a minute or two—once he remembers where he is. But with him this out of it...”

Merle was quiet for several minutes, before he drawled, “It’s a miracle he don’t fuckin’ hate me.”

Shane gave him a long look. “He ain’t never gonna hate you. Not really. You’re his brother.”

“Yeah, and look what that got him,” Merle laughed humorlessly. “A fucked up back and a head full of nightmares.”

Shane rubbed hand over the back of his head.

“Look, I ain’t sayin’ there ain’t stuff ya did wrong. But _you_ didn’t give him those scars. And _you_ ain’t the one chasin’ him in his nightmares,” Shane said pointedly. “You didn’t make your dad the way he is. _Daryl_ knows that. You gotta know that too. The way I figure it...it’s a miracle either one of y’all made it out of that house alive.”

Merle nodded slowly. “Ya know, you ain’t the annoying little shit I thought you were when we first met.”

Shane bit out a laugh. “Yeah. And you ain’t the racist asshole I thought, neither. Sometimes.”

Merle cracked his knuckles methodically. “You love him?”

“Yeah,” Shane replied, without any hesitation, or any rush.

Merle crossed his arms over his chest and lay back against the pillows, letting his eyes fall shut.

“Good,” he said.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

 Daryl woke up warm and comfortable. The feel of Shane pressed up against his side wasn’t at all unfamiliar, but when he realized that there was _another_ warm body at his back, Daryl sat up in bed abruptly.

“Go back to sleep,” Merle grumbled into his pillow.

Daryl stared at him in confusion, then looked to Shane. And even without cracking his eyes open, Shane mumbled, “What he said. You’re fine.”

The younger Dixon sat back against the headboard and tried to sort through is memories. But everything since the Jacuzzi melted together unintelligibly, a mishmash of vibrant memories, only half of which could have been real.

Shane finally hauled himself up to a sitting position, and pressed his hand to Daryl’s forehead.

“Well, your fever’s gone,” Shane said, “How you feelin’?”

“Good,” Daryl murmured. He looked nervous. “What…uh…what happened?”

“You had a fever,” Shane explained. “Spiked pretty damn high. I couldn’t wake you up, so I called Merle. He helped me take care of you.” Shane watched him closely, “You don’t remember?”

“I think I do,” Daryl muttered uncertainly, “Parts, at least. S’kinda…hazy, I guess.”

“Well, considering how high your temperature went, I suppose I ain’t surprised. But you still need to rest,” Shane said.

Daryl nodded slowly. “Did I…do anythin’…?”

His eyes felt oddly dry, as if he’d been crying, and Daryl was starting to get worried.

“What—embarrassing?” Shane asked him. He smiled, “No more than usual.”

The younger Dixon flushed.

“Can you two lovebirds shut your traps? I’m tryin’ to sleep goddamnit,” Merle griped.

Shane grinned and pulled Daryl into his chest, laying them both back comfortably.

“You heard him. Quit your yammerin’,” Shane teased.

And even though Daryl was still reasonably anxious about what exactly he’d _done_ in the last 24 hours, he knew better than to piss off Merle Dixon when he was trying to sleep. So despite the abject strangeness of being pressed between the boy he loved and his big brother, Daryl eventually allowed himself to seek out some of that rest Shane was so keen on him getting.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok guys, so the big news is that Doctor's Orders officially has an end game. Tentatively, I'll be calling this at Chapter 27. I have a couple more stories to tell before this particular Sharyl fic will feel complete to me. (But if you have any requests, send them now and I can try- no promises- to make them work!). I hope everyone enjoys this chapter! I know I did.

When they walked into the bar, it had the exact same stale, lifeless smell about it that it had had the last time Shane had deigned to enter. And when the bartender spotted him from his perch, he glowered with commitment.

“This is a bad idea,” Shane muttered in Daryl’s direction. The younger Dixon looked even less thrilled than Shane felt, eyeing the sparse, aging clientele and the rusty barstools.

“Aw, grow some nuts QB,” Merle quipped, pushing past them and into the room.

“I’m not quarterback!” Shane called out after him, unduly offended. He saw Daryl smirking out of the corner of his eye. “I’m not,” Shane asserted, a little sheepishly this time.

“C’mon,” Daryl said softly, “It’s just a drink. Ain’t no one in a place like this gonna call ya out for startin’ a fight once or twice.”

“Twice,” Shane replied, “And considerin’ that I’ve only been in this place twice, and they had to call the cops on me both times, my track record ain’t exactly stellar.”

“‘Bout as good as Merle’s,” Daryl said, nodding over to where his brother and the bartender were chatting animatedly, smiles on their faces. “And he’s still welcome.”

Shane let out a long suffering sigh. “Fine. Fine. I’ll quit complaining.”

Daryl’s lip twitched again in a bitten off smile, and they made their way over to the bar to sit down alongside Merle.

“And that’s when I told her, honey, y’can either ride this dick, or suck it, but I ain’t touchin’ that cunt o’ yours ‘fore that rash clears up,” Merle finished as the boys sat down. He grinned widely, “Why dontcha get some drinks for these fine young men, eh barkeep?”

“You know my damn name, Merle,” the bartender groused.

“Yeah, but if I use it, then that air of mystery all them chicks go crazy for s’gonna go up in smoke. I’m doin’ ya a favor.”

The bartender set down two beers in front of Daryl and Shane. He looked the dark-haired boy in the eye. “You start another fight, and the next time you try and come in my bar, imma cuff ya on the way in. Got it?”

“Got it,” Shane replied quickly. He took a too-fast sip of his beer and smiled up at the gruff man. Receiving a nod in return, the bartender ambled on to his other customers, and Shane sagged just a little bit in his seat.

“See? Got yourself all worked up for nothin’,” Daryl mumbled into his glass, and Shane scowled at him.

“I’ll work you up,” he responded lamely, and Daryl couldn’t help but laugh out loud at that.

“I’d like to see you try!”

“I swear if y’all don’t quit your flirting, I ain’t never gonna take you lovebirds out with me again!” Merle exclaimed, cutting off their playful bickering, but he had a smile on his face too.

A few drinks in, and Daryl cast a lingering glance towards Shane before heading off towards the bathroom with a mumble about “needin’ to piss.”

Shane and Merle sat in silence for several minutes, watching the game, before the elder Dixon blurted out, “The fuck you still doin’ here?”

Shane looked to him. “Huh?”

“Christ, do I gotta spell it out for ya?” Merle griped, “That there,” he pointed towards the back of the bar, where Daryl had disappeared, “was a fuckin’ sign if I ever did see one.”

“The hell do you mean, a sign?”

“He wants you to get back there and fuck him,” Merle replied plainly, causing Shane to choke on his drink. “Or for you to get back there so he can fuck you. Ya know what-- I don’t wanna know which one of y’all bends over for who. All I need is for you to get your ass to that bathroom. ‘Cuz if ya wait any fuckin’ longer, Daryl’s bound to give up. And the last thing I need is that little shit sulkin’ the whole night.”

That was all the encouragement Shane needed. He downed his beer in a single gulp, hopped up off the barstool, and charged towards the bathroom. The jock burst through the door with a smirk on his face, making Daryl jump where he stood.

But then the younger man’s look of shock melted into a smile. “Took ya long enough.”

Shane sauntered towards him, making a slow show of unclasping his belt.

“Your brother,” Shane drawled out slowly, “Seems to think you’re waiting for me here ‘cuz ya need to get fucked. Was he right, Daryl? You been waitin’ for me?”

Daryl leaned back against the counter as Shane caged him in with his muscular arms.

“Yeah…” he murmured, breath hitching noticeably when one of Shane’s legs slid between is, rubbing against his already throbbing length just right. Shane whipped away Daryl’s belt in one smooth movement, letting the younger boy’s jeans pool to the floor. When Shane saw Daryl was bare underneath, he smiled like a wild animal spotting its next meal.

“Guess you oughta bend over for me then,” Shane rasped, eyeing Daryl up and down and licking his lips. Without waiting for the other boy to respond, he spun Daryl so they were both facing the mirror, and pushed gently on the center of his back. Daryl lowered himself forward until his ass was sticking out invitingly, maintaining Shane’s dark gaze in the reflective surface.

“Someone could walk in,” Daryl said. And it was true, the bathroom was public and they hadn’t even bothered to find a stall. It wasn’t exactly likely, since they seemed to have Merle on their side at the moment. But it was certainly possible.

“That mean you want to stop?” Shane asked him.

Daryl shook his head slowly, and Shane grinned.

“S’what I thought.”

The dark-haired boy, keeping his movements predictable and leisured, pulled Daryl’s hands behind his back. When he then picked up the belt he’d flung towards the sink only moments before, a look of understanding passed over Daryl’s face.

“Still alright?” Shane asked him.

Daryl bit at his lip for a beat before nodding again, and pushing his wrists together invitingly.

“That’s my boy,” Shane murmured as he bound Daryl’s wrists together with his belt, “So good for me.”

He spit thoroughly into his hand, then slowly inched a finger into Daryl. The boy was watching him through the mirror, mouth hanging open as he panted shallowly. He found Daryl’s spot and rubbed over it in small circles, shivering himself when Daryl whined needily. It took almost no effort at all to push in a second finger alongside the first. And he didn’t let up until Daryl was bucking back against his hand.

“M’ready,” Daryl gasped out. His face was a pleasing shade of pink, flushed nearly as red as his cock.

“Yeah,” Shane agreed, “Look at you. Ya need it bad, now, huh?”

Daryl glared at him from under his unruly bangs. “C’mon.”

“Fuck,” Shane groaned as he slid their bodies together just right, “Fuck, fuck yeah, Daryl.”

The dark-haired boy pulled nearly all the way out and slammed in again hard, punching out a moan from Daryl’s bite-swollen lips. And when Shane caught Daryl’s lust-drunk expression in the mirror, he knew there would be no slow and easy. Shane fucked into Daryl hard and fast, cock shoved up hard against the younger teen’s prostate until Daryl’s every breath was coming out a groan.

“Shane…” Daryl whimpered, pressing back for more. His cock was twitching and leaking underneath him, begging for attention, and with his hands bound as they were, pleading seemed like the only option. “Shane, please…”

All at once, Shane pulled out of Daryl and whipped him around. He grabbed a muscular leg in each hand and jerked the younger boy up onto the counter, pumping into him again in one smooth movement.

Shane could feel Daryl’s legs trembling, wrapped around his body. He could see how red the younger boy’s length was, reaching up towards his belly and twitching every time Shane bottomed out inside of him.

Trailing kisses up the side of Daryl’s neck, Shane murmured to him, “Fuckin’ love you, Daryl.”

The blue-eyed boy’s head fell to Shane’s shoulder. “Shane. Need...need to…” Daryl panted.

“What do you need, baby? You need to come?”

Daryl moaned again, writhing uselessly against Shane.

“Lemme come,” Daryl breathed out, seeking out Shane’s eyes. “Shane, please...please, lemme…”

“Shh, I got you,” Shane whispered, wrapping a hand around Daryl’s member and pumping him in time with his thrusts. He knew Daryl was already hanging on by a thread. “You love it when I fuck you, huh Daryl? I know you do. Show me now, okay? Show me how much you love me. Let go for me, c’mon.”

One more well-timed thrust and Daryl was done for.

“Shane, fuck. Fucking hell…” he groaned as his cock pulsed come all over the older boy’s hand. And as soon as Daryl clenched down hard around him, Shane lost it too, pumping into Daryl sporadically and moaning against the side of Daryl’s face as he came.

Shane released Daryl’s hands and they panted through it together, clutching each other contentedly despite their locale. When they walked out of the bathroom several minutes later, Daryl made it three steps into the room before freezing in his tracks.

Cash was here. Sitting next to his big brother at the bar, pounding back shots of whiskey, and smirking that same expression Daryl had seen before the husk of a man in front of him had pulled the trigger weeks ago. Neither man looked happy. But before Shane seemed to recognize why Daryl was upset, and before the latter had managed to move a muscle, the pair’s hushed argument quickly became an all out brawl.

“Fuck you!” Merle shouted as he threw Cash to the ground. “You think you can come in here and threaten me?”

Cash hooked him one in the gut, and Merle retaliated by cracking a beer bottle over the man’s head. It was hopeless from there. Daryl and Shane rushed to pry them apart, suffering injuries of their own in the process. And through all their struggling and snarling shouts, it felt like only seconds before they heard the sirens.

Four cops bust through the front door, with Sheriff Grimes leading the pack.

“I’ll kill you!” Merle growled, hardly helping his cause. “Say one more word ‘bout my brother. See what happens.”

But the cops were already pinning him to the ground, cuffing his hands behind his back. He and Cash were hauled out into the parking lot, with Daryl and Shane trailing behind and shouting out their version of the story.

Once Merle had been shoved into the back of a cruiser, and calmed down some, the Sheriff crouched by the open door.

“I’m gonna do everything I can for you, Merle,” Mr. Grimes told him, “But assault...that’s breakin’ your parole. Ya had to know that.”

Merle’s face was stony, staring towards the car where Cash had been stowed. “Did what I had to do, Sheriff.”

One of the cops rushed over and whispered something in Sheriff Grimes’ ear.

“That so?” the Sheriff exclaimed. He smiled shrewdly and looked to Cash, “Well, sonny. Seems you got warrants out in three different states for first degree murder. If I was you, I wouldn’t expect to be seeing the light of day any time soon.”

Daryl couldn’t help but feel proud, in that moment, of the Sheriff’s cheek.

The cops got back into their cars to head back to the station, but not before Daryl rushed over to Merle’s side.

“I’ll get you out,” Daryl promised him, “We’ll figure it out, okay? We always do.”

Merle shot him a halfhearted smile. “Whatever you say, baby brother.”

And then they were gone.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

The courthouse felt more like a hospital than anything, and Daryl was shivering as soon as he stepped inside. The walls were starkly white, as were the tiled floors and the fluorescent ceilings above them. The room stunk of disinfectant and anxiety. And the judge, looming above them on her pedestal, looked more like an executioner with her long black robe and longer white hair.

The purpose of the hearing was to determine if Merle would be getting more jail time, his lawyer had explained. Since this wasn’t his first rodeo, and hardly his first time breaking parole, stricter terms of probation were largely off the table. The best thing they could do for Merle, the lawyer said, was plead his case and hope the judge would go easy on him.

Since it was a parole hearing, not a trial, the Judge alone would determine whether the elder Dixon would be carted away to prison for the umpteenth time. She was a thin, narrow woman with long, red nails and high-arching eyebrows.

Daryl wasn’t exactly feeling optimistic.

The Sheriff was up first. He’d have clout, the lawyer had said, and was well respected in the community. From his periphery, the lawyer’s pretty blonde intern-- Andrea, Daryl thought her name was-- shot him a reassuring smile.

“I’ve known Merle for a good fifteen years,” the Sheriff began, “Known the DIxon family longer than that. And one thing I can say without a shadow of a doubt is that I’ve never seen Merle turn over a new leaf like he has these last few months. He’s held down a steady, honest job. He’s stayed clean. He’s at my house for Sunday night dinners every week and he’s never once shown up late. What happened at the bar was a mistake. Merle knows that. We all know that. And he’s willing to pay the price. But sending him back to prison now is going to reverse months of progress, more progress than this man has made in years. I can vouch for Merle Dixon. And all I’m asking is that in turn, the court consider that more jail time might not be the best course of action here.”

The Judge thanked Sheriff Grimes for his time, and he resumed his seat behind the Defense. There were a handful of witnesses that came after him-- social workers, former parole officers and the like-- who Daryl didn’t bother to listen to too closely. It wasn’t until he heard his own name called that he really began to sweat.

Daryl gnawed at his lip as he walked up to the witness stand. He sat down at his chair. Coughed, needlessly. Tried to straighten out the tie that the Grimes had insisted he wear. Daryl caught Merle’s eye, and his big brother gave him a firm nod. He looked to Shane next, whose eyes managed to say You can do this without his mouth ever moving.

“State your name for the court.”

Daryl flushed, coughed again. “Uh...Daryl. Daryl Dixon.”

“Relationship to the defendant?”

“He’s my brother.”

“And I understand you’ve prepared a statement?” the Judge asked him.

“Yeah,” Daryl said too quickly, “I mean, yes ma’am. I did. Sorta.”

The Judge cocked an eyebrow at him, and tapped her fingernails against the counter in front of her. There was an elongated pause before she shot him a shrewd smile, “Any day now, Mr. Dixon.”

“Oh!” Daryl exclaimed, “Right. Guess I’ll just…”

Daryl swallowed hard, and clenched his eyes shut. Then, he started from the beginning.

“Figure you’ve read Merle’s file, maybe mine too,” Daryl said, looking to the Judge. “Maybe saw some stuff in there ‘bout our Mom, how she burnt herself up when I was a kid, took the whole house with her. Probably just skimmed through all the domestics the police have had to write up on our Dad over the years. Gotta be so many in there by now, ain’t even worth lookin’ through. I bet you even noticed how all them reports started maybe ten years back, after our Mom went. But you look like a smart..” Daryl’s eyes darted around briefly, searching for the right word.

“Woman,” he continued with a cringe, “And I think you know as well as anyone that just ‘cuz that’s when the police reports started comin’ in, don’t mean that’s when all that stuff started. Truth is, our Dad’s always been a bastard. And a drunk. And he was beatin’ on my Mom and Merle long before I came around. Only reason…” Daryl let out a shuddering breath, “only reason I’m even alive right now is ‘cuz Merle used to provoke him. Piss him off so he’d get tired beatin’ him first, and leave me be.

“There ain’t no reports from before my Mom went, ‘cuz Merle never complained. He just...took it, to keep me safe. Didn’t know there was any other way. Used to tell me...that the only person who’d ever care about me was him. That I couldn’t trust no one. Wasn’t ‘til I met the Grimes that I realized he was wrong. But it wasn’t Merle’s fault he thought that way. All he ever knew was fightin’, fendin’ for himself.”

Daryl kept his eyes on the floor at the center of the room, struggling to get this all out at once, no matter how many times he’d practiced.

“What I’m saying is, Merle’s a good brother. And I know he mouths off a lot, and does the wrong thing, but he’s trying. Trying to get better. I’ve seen him changing, these last few months. And anyone in the Sheriff’s office can tell ya that Merle Dixon turnin’ himself around is the closest thing any of y’all are ever gonna see to a miracle.

“But...you send him back to prison now, with a whole bunch of guys who are way worse than him, and you’re signing his death certificate. ‘Cuz even if he makes it out of there alive, the guy that comes out won’t be my brother no more.”

Daryl managed to meet the Judge’s gaze, finally. He was surprised to find it had softened considerably.

“Don’t do that to him,” Daryl begged, “Don’t do that to me.” He fought to keep his voice from wavering. “I just want my brother back.”

He let out a long breath through his nose, and looked around the room. All eyes were on him, and Daryl wished he could melt into the wood paneling behind him.

It occurred to him that he hadn’t exactly wrapped up his statement.

“Uh...thank you,” Daryl finished, giving the Judge a curt nod.

She smiled at him. “You can go sit down, Mr. Dixon.”

Daryl rushed back to his seat beside his brother, sinking down low into the chair. Merle wasn’t looking at him, not full on. But Daryl could see he was biting back a smile.

Per his lawyer’s advice, Merle’s only contribution to the ordeal were two sentences: “I made a mistake, and I’m sorry for it. I appreciate ya’ll takin’ the time to hear me out.”

Then the Judge retreated to her chambers, and the Dixon clan was left to stew in their juices.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

Daryl and Merle headed out front for a smoke break while they waited, with two security guards as escorts.

Merle took a long pull, watching his brother out of the corner of his eye.

“What you said in there…” he rasped.

Daryl shrugged. “Just told ‘em the truth.”

They stood in silence for a long time, until Merle finally dropped his cigarette butt on the ground and squashed it under his boot.

“I love you, baby brother,” Merle said, “Even if you do bat for the other team.”

Daryl flushed and jabbed the elder Dixon in the ribs. “Asshole,” he huffed, smiling. “Love you too.”

TWDTWDTWDTWD

They were called back inside, and Daryl could see Merle’s body ossify as soon as they stepped through the wide oak doors of the courtroom.

Merle stood in front of the Judge with his hands cuffed in front of him.

“Merle Dixon…” the Judge sighed. “You know normally, when someone comes into my court with a rap sheet ten miles long, I’m not too inclined to listen to a sob story excusing their latest screw-up. But this is a special case. Not so much seeing an ex-con break his parole: that’s a tale as old as time. But an ex-con who makes a real effort to turn himself around, so much so that he gets the county Sheriff down here testifying on his behalf-- that’s something you don’t see every day.”

She looked up from her papers. “Now I want you to hear me when I say this, Mr. Dixon, because I’m starting to doubt you’ve heard this much before. You and your brother were dealt a bad hand. And while that doesn’t excuse every bad decision you’ve ever made, it certainly explains many of them. This bar fight? It was stupid, Dixon, plain and simple.

“However, I don’t think it’s enough to suggest that you’re heading back towards a life of crime. So here’s what’s going to happen. You’ll be doing community service five days a week, teaching Mechanics at the Juvenile Detention Center in Senoia. You will also be going to court-mandated therapy, twice a week, until your therapist sees you fit to discontinue. If you miss a session, you go to jail. If you show up late to teach our young offenders, you go to jail. But if you manage to fulfill both of those responsibilities for the next six months, then at the end of that time, you can come back to my courtroom and we can reassess your terms.”

The security guard came up by Merle’s side and uncuffed him, leaving both Dixons stunned into silence.

“I’m giving you a chance, Mr. Dixon,” the Judge said as she stood, the rest of the room rising up with her. “Try not to make me look bad.”

With that, she went out the back door of the court, and Daryl broke out into a wide, brilliant smile.

His eyes darted to their lawyer, still disbelieving. “No jail time?” he questioned.

The lawyer smiled back at him. “No jail time.”

A moment later, Merle’s burly arms were squeezing the life out of his baby brother, and it was the best damn feeling in the world.


	23. Chapter 23

As a reward for a year of good grades and predominantly acceptable behavior, Sheriff and Mrs. Grimes told the boys that they could go on a two week camping trip. Their escort? None other than Merle Dixon, who since his parole hearing, had managed to keep his hands as clean as his liver.

They set out on a Monday morning, with Rick carrying two weeks worth of canned food on his back, despite the Dixons’ insistence that it wouldn’t be necessary. Daryl and Merle led the way, armed with a handful of their favorite knives, the crossbow, and a rifle. Shane trailed only a few feet behind Daryl, working hard to match the younger boy’s every step, and marveling at just how silently he managed to travel through the thick and endless wood.

Rick, true to form, lagged several yards behind them. He swayed precariously from side to side with each labored stride, clearly struggling with his pack. And the young Grimes had his head so far into the map his father had given him, that he couldn’t help but trip over every root and low shrub they passed.

Which went on for about fifteen minutes before Merle finally snapped.

The older Dixon stopped abruptly, turning on his heel and charging up into Rick’s face fast enough to make the younger boy jump. He snatched the map out of Rick’s hands, balled it up into a crumpled mess and chucked it into the ravine below them. Then, he spat in its wake for emphasis, as water seeped into the delicate fibers and tugged the map into the current.

“What did you do that for?” Rick whined, throwing his hands up in the air.

Merle smirked and shrugged a single shoulder. “Don’t need no goddamn map,” he hissed, like the word itself offended him.

“But what if we get lost?” Rick asked.

That earned him a hard look from both Dixons, standing shoulder to shoulder and glaring at him like he’d spat on their mother’s grave.

“We won’t get lost,” Shane said, attempting to come to Rick’s rescue.

“Long as you got your eyes on my back or Merle’s, y’ain’t lost,” Daryl said, “Dixon boys got the best sense of direction outta anyone in the state of Georgia.”

“Damn straight,” Merle affirmed, grinning, “Now get your head out of your ass and move your fuckin’ feet, city boy. We’re burnin’ daylight.”

“We grew up in the same town!” Rick called as Merle and Daryl resumed their position at the head of the group.

“Keep tellin’ yourself that,” Merle laughed, flipping Rick the bird over his shoulder.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

They walked for hours. Long enough for Rick to find himself struggling to hold back his complaints, and for Shane to be sweating and panting from the exertion.

When they finally came to a plateau of sorts, the Dixon boys nodded at one another, communicating without words.

“This is it,” Daryl announced, to the two teens’ palpable relief.

Merle sat on his ass with a perpetual grin on his face and watched Rick and Shane struggle to set up their tent. But when the mess of polyester and sticks finally resembled some sort of dwelling, and the pair went off to sit by the fire Daryl had going, Merle’s grin fell into a dubious frown.

“There best be another tent in that pack of yours,” Merle growled, moving to join them.

“How could I possibly have fit another tent in there?” Rick snarked, poking at the embers with a stick.

“Kid, there goddamn well better be one. ‘Cuz I ain’t shackin’ up with all three of you horny little shits. No sir,” Merle snarled, shaking his head.

“‘S a big tent,” Daryl sighed, watching Shane from across the fire. The dark-haired jock was gazing at Daryl just as fixedly. His hand was knuckle-deep in a can of peaches from Rick’s pack. And as Daryl stared, Shane pulled back his sticky, glistening fingers, and sucked each of them into his mouth, moaning softly at the sickly sweet taste.

“Ain’t no tent big enough for four grown ass men!” Merle scoffed. “Or at least, one grown ass man and three pubescent fuckwads.”

Neither Daryl not Shane registered Rick’s response. Shane plucked out a slice of peach with two fingers, tongued away the syrup dripping from it, and sucked the fruit into his mouth with tensed lips. It was a miracle that Merle and Rick were so immersed in their argument. Because the whimper Daryl let out as he watched Shane chase those last drops of liquid from his chin was far from quiet.

“Oughta hunt,” Daryl blurted out loudly, never breaking Shane’s gaze.

“Wouldn’t mind havin’ me some meat tonight,” Shane shrewdly replied, setting his can of peaches on the ground.

Merle tilted his head back to gaze up at the sky. Pinks and oranges were already leaking out through the clouds, and any hunter worth his salt knew that tracking in the dark was a fool’s errand. He narrowed his eyes at his brother.

“Gonna catch us some dinner, baby brother?” Merle asked, a smirk playing at his lips.

“Might,” Daryl replied, shrugging as nonchalantly as he could manage. His eyes bore into Shane’s. “Could be somethin’ out there worth trackin’ down.”

“I should go with ya,” Shane said slowly, “Ya know, in case ya snag a deer. Need some help carrying it back.”

“Plenty I could use help with,” Daryl murmured in reply.

“Let’s head out then,” Shane was quick to say, “while there’s still light.”

That was all the encouragement Daryl needed. He hopped to his feet. “Yeah,” he agreed hastily, “Let’s get to it.”

Daryl chanced a look over in Rick and Merle’s direction, and found the pair of them staring at their exchange with looks of horrified, amused fascination.

When Daryl finally met his big brother’s gaze, Merle let out a throaty laugh.

“Christ, brother! We all got dicks here! AIn’t no shame in needin’ to get laid,” Merle teased.

Daryl flushed bright red and scratched at the back of his head sheepishly.

“We’ll be back soon,” Shane interjected, trying to lessen his partner’s embarrassment.

“Half hour,” Daryl offered, picking up his bow. He made towards the edge of the trees, expecting Shane to follow.

“Call it an hour,” Shane said pointedly, catching Merle’s eye. The grin he was biting back broke through like a baseball shattering a glass window, and he had to clamp his teeth down on his lower lip to keep from laughing aloud. “I’ll have him back before bedtime.”

That earned him a rock chucked straight at his head, which Shane dodged expertly, before grabbing his backpack and hurrying after Daryl into the trees.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

Shane was alone. Whatever light had been left in the sky was obscured the dozens of leaves layering overhead. Left without even a shadow for company, Shane trekked carefully through the brush.

“Daryl?” he called, smile still on his face. This was a game, and he knew it. Cat and mouse. Hunter and the hunted.

“C’mon out and play, baby,” Shane tried, sweeping his eyes back and forth across the graying woods. “Led me all the way out here. M’yours, now. Can do whatever ya want with me.”

True to form, Shane never heard so much as a footstep before a thin, muscular body connected with him from behind, throwing him off balance and sending him falling to the ground.

“Fuck,” Shane managed to gasp, as Daryl nimbly flipped him to his back and pinned him by his arms.

“Yeah. In a bit,” Daryl responded, as if the expletive had been a proposal.

Shane groaned and ground himself upwards into the warm, steely rod tenting the front of Daryl’s jeans. Taking the bait, Daryl finally leaned forward and kissed him hard. He sucked Shane’s lip into his mouth, nibbling until it had flushed a pleasing shade of red.

“Got me where you want me,” Shane panted, pulling Daryl even tighter against him. “C’mon.”

“Nah,” Daryl breathed, the corner of his mouth quirked in amusement, “Ain’t quite where I want ya yet.”

With that, he hauled Shane up onto his knees, hopping to his feet himself and jerking open his fly in a single, desperately spastic movement.

Shane licked his lips and grinned up at him. “So that’s what you want.” He pulled Daryl’s cock out of his jeans and stroked it slowly. When he ducked his head down to lap at the pearls of precum still clinging to the head, Daryl let out a low moan that made Shane’s own member twitch longingly.

“Remember the first time I had your cock in my mouth?” Shane asked him with feigned innocence.

Daryl thread his fingers into Shane’s hair, tugging none too gently. “Shane…” he rasped, voice gravelly and thick, “Please…”

“You prove to me you remember,” Shane bargained, “And I’ll take care of ya.”

Daryl let out a long breath through his mouth and brushed his thumb gently over Shane’s cheek.

“Was…” Daryl began after a moment’s pause, “Was our first night together.”

Shane swallowed Daryl’s cock down until his nose hit the younger teen’s pubes.

“You’d already gotten me off once,” Daryl moaned, thrusting his hips as Shane’s mouth moved languidly up and down his length. “Didn’t gimme a chance to breathe ‘fore ya put your mouth on me. Thought...fuck, Shane...felt so good it almost hurt. Thought you were gonna kill me.”

Shane used one of his hands to cup and fondle Daryl’s balls, rolling them gently in his palm.

“Jesus,” Daryl groaned. “It was...it felt...fuck…” Daryl broke off in another desperate moan as Shane swirled his tongue sinfully. “Was too much,” Daryl tried again, “Then a minute later, so damn good. Hadn’t felt nothin’ like it before. Ain’t never felt anything like I have since I’ve been with you.”

Shane pulled away from Daryl’s with wide, lust-drunk eyes. It took a lot for Daryl to say something so bluntly affectionate. And even the younger teen seemed surprised by his admission.

“I…”

“Turn around,” Shane ordered, already moving to pull Daryl’s jeans off his body. “Bend forward. Hands on the tree.”

Gratefully, Daryl spun on his heels and kicked his jeans off to the side. As soon as he’d bent forward, Shane’s mouth pressed up against him from behind.

“Shane!” Daryl cried out, cock twitching in the open air. He was long past the point of rational thought. The older boy’s strong tongue swirled against his entrance, darting in and out, readying him.

Daryl bit on his forearm in a heedless attempt to keep quiet. His member jerked and leaked of its own accord, aching to be touched. But then Shane’s hand crept around to clasp the base of Daryl’s cock, and the younger boy just couldn’t take it anymore.

“Get on with it!” he gasped, needy and weak-kneed. A finger slipped into him easily, and he heard Shane chuckle from behind him.

“You need it that bad, Daryl?” Shane murmured, pressing another finger into the slick heat and scissoring gently.

Daryl thrust back against the digits that seemed to be purposefully avoiding his prostate, whining from the back of his throat.

“Ain’t gonna last much longer,” he gasped. “C’mon. Fuck. C’mon, Shane.”

Shane came to his feet, sucking a kiss to Daryl’s shoulder. “S’alright. I gotcha.”

Daryl shook his head blindly, flustered by how close he was already and too desperate to think. But then Shane was inside him, and everything in Daryl’s world righted in a heartbeat.

“Fuck, Daryl…” Shane moaned, pushing into him slow and deep. “Feel so good. So fuckin’ good.”

Between the bright pleasure of Shane’s cock pounding hard against his prostate, and the reassuring pressure of the older boy’s arms wrapped around him, mouth pressed to his neck, Daryl could barely stand. His breathing was coming in hot, short bursts, punctuated every few seconds by an echoing moan of Shane’s name.

And when Shane groaned into Daryl’s neck, “Jesus, m’not gonna last,” well, the younger Dixon couldn’t have been any more relieved. Shane wrapped a hand around Daryl’s cock, hips canting faster and harder.

“Yes,” Dary let out in a shuddering breath, “God, I--”

“Gonna come for me Daryl?” Shane whispered in his ear, fist pumping up and down the younger boy’s length. “Gonna come all over this tree? Mark it as yours?”

“Shane!” Daryl snapped, jerking his elbow back in an attempt to teach the dark-haired teen a lesson, but abandoning the movement to break into a full-bodied, trembling moan.

“C’mon,” Shane whispered, lips centimeters from Daryl’s ear. “C’mon baby. Give it to me. I wanna feel you come.”

“So close,” Daryl whined, “Fuck. M’so close. I’m--”

Shane twisted his palm over the leaking head of Daryl’s cock.

“That’s right, baby. Let it go, now. Who do you love?”

“Shane!” Daryl moaned, head falling forward to hang down to his chest as he lost control of his body. White spurted in streaks over the rough bark of the tree he was braced against. And Daryl shook helplessly in the other boy’s arms, trembling even as Shane grunted once, twice, then spent himself in the pulsing heat of the younger boy’s body.

They stayed pressed together for several minutes afterwards, relishing the solitude and shared heat. Eventually, Daryl couldn’t help but shiver from the cold. Shane was quick to help him dress and usher him back towards camp.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

Merle and Rick sat in a silence that wasn’t quite amicable. Rick picked at his can of beans, while Merle ate a spitroasted squirrel off of a stick. They stared into the fire, enjoying being outside and away from anything resembling civilization.

A sharp, curdling scream broke their comfortable silence. Merle jumped to his feet, ears perked like a dog. Then, it came again, fading in and out like a skipping record. The noise was sandpaper-rough and painfully shrill. Inhuman.

Rick looked to the elder Dixon, face wrinkled in worry. “You think...think that’s Daryl and Shane?”

“Known my baby brother his whole damn life, he ain’t never made a sound like that,” Merle mused, staring off into the pitch-black woods. The light of the fire provided just enough visibility to make out the boundaries of their camp, but certainly no farther. “And if that’s the sound he makes when he’s fuckin’, then I ain’t never lettin’ him live it down.”

The sound rang out once more, impossible to pinpoint.

“Dixon men don’t sound nothin’ like that,” Daryl said, stepping out of the forest with Shane by his side, “in bed or otherwise.”

Merle nodded to his brother, but kept the bulk of his attention on the woods around them.

“Could it be an animal?” Rick asked, shivering, but not from the cold.

“No animal I ever heard,” Merle muttered. He and Daryl shared a long look.

“Alright, let’s get to bed,” Daryl said, “Gonna be a long day tomorrow.”

The shrieking hadn’t quite stopped, but it had grown less frequent. Increasingly lengthy lapses in the rolling high notes that stabbed out from all around them. Splitting the air just often enough that they wouldn’t be forgotten. Even from a distance, the Dixon boys knew that whatever was making that sound couldn’t be an animal. The timbre was too high, tremor too complex.

The source of the noise was static; and that at least was reassurance enough for Daryl and Merle to appear reasonably calm as they herded their companions into the tent and squelched out both the bonfire and the lantern.

They were four peas in a pod: Merle and Rick bracketing either end of the tent, with Daryl by his brother’s side, and Shane by his best friend’s. They lay together, listening to the sounds of the forest as it slowly quieted.

The last of the shrieks came just before Daryl closed his eyes. And even though he rationalized it away- told himself that it was machinery or an animal or some composite of the two- Daryl could have sworn that that sharp sound so close to a scream had in fact contained a word.

Help.

But that was crazy. A trick of the imagination. And Daryl Dixon knew better than to let some inkling fear and doubt in the recesses of his mind spoil his normally infallible judgment.

Still, when he slept, he slept fitfully.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

Before Daryl opened his eyes the next morning, he thought maybe he was floating. Out at sea, a majesty which he’d never had the opportunity to see in person, and drifting over soft waves which crested onto softer shores.

His senses came back to him slowly. But Daryl blinked open his ocean-blue eyes and realized that the pleasant rocking was in fact the product of his lying almost entirely on top of Shane’s chest. It wasn’t exactly an unfamiliar position. In fact, Daryl largely preferred sleeping this way: half on top of Shane’s body and tucked under the older boy’s arm.

But he never did so with an audience.

Merle was already sitting up, perched in the corner and watching Daryl with an expression that was entirely unreadable. Daryl tried to squirm away from Shane, face heating up in embarrassment. But even in his sleep, Shane clung to him stubbornly, tucking his head into Daryl’s neck and lacing their legs together.

Shane wasn’t quite awake yet, but he was in that fuzzy realm of almost-consciousness where he couldn’t be quite sure where he was or what was happening. So what the older boy did next was almost entirely instinct.

The jock closed the short distance between Daryl and himself and pressed their lips together in a slow kiss. Daryl considered fighting him off, wary of his big brother watching such a display. But Shane’s mouth was so warm and inviting that Daryl quickly lost himself in the moment, kissing the older boy back leisurely and forgetting that there were two other people sharing their tent.

“Mornin’,” Shane whispered when he finally broke away, voice thick with sleep, “Love you.”

Daryl’s eyes darted up to his brother’s, concerned. But for the dozenth time in the last few months, Merle Dixon surprised him. He was smiling.

Trying not to, of course. Dixon men didn’t grin at displays of affection as sappy and sweet as what Merle had just witnessed. But he couldn’t help it. His baby brother was in love, and even if the person he was in love with happened to have a cock, it was a load off of the older Dixon’s mind to know that there was someone else on this planet who’d do anything to keep Daryl happy and safe.

Daryl deserved that. That, and a hell of a lot more.

“Don’t look so damn worried, Darlena,” Merle said, quirking an eyebrow at his brother. “And what- y’ain’t gonna say it back?”

Daryl’s cheeks sprung pink, and he ducked his head meekly. “He knows,” Daryl defended.

Shane shifted against him, still not quite awake, but vaguely aware of the conversation. “Still like to hear it,” Shane mumbled, pouting in a way that was far too attractive.

“And for that matter, how come ya don’t say it to me either?” Rick suddenly piped up. And fuck, Daryl hadn’t even realized his adopted brother was awake. Goddamn Shane making his brain a love-drunk mess.

“How’s it I ended up stuck with the two neediest guys on the planet?” Daryl carped, trying and failing at sounding annoyed. “Fine. I love the both of y’all. Ya happy?”

“Yes,” Rick asserted, at the same time Shane innocently replied, “Could be happier.”

Daryl smacked Shane on the back of the head, just as Rick sent an elbow into the small of his back.

“Fuck the both of you!” Shane shouted, sitting up.

“Nah, I don’t share,” Daryl replied. And all four men laughed aloud at that, because it was probably the first time Daryl had managed to make a joke about his and Shane’s sex life, let alone sound downright casual about it. They were still chuckling when Daryl unzipped the tent and stepped outside.

He froze, smile sliding off his face and plummeting to the ground. Merle came up beside him and immediately stopped as well, both Dixons staring out into the camp with deep frowns on their faces and shoulders tense with anxiety.

“...Daryl?” Shane said quietly. Shane drew his hand up Daryl’s arm, nervous because they were nervous. Understanding that the Dixons could see something out there that he couldn’t, and that whatever they saw had them somewhere in between angry, alarmed, and frightened.

“Someone was in our camp,” Daryl whispered without looking at him.

Shivering at the warmest of breezes, it occurred to Daryl that the woods had gone far too quiet.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. So. I AM SORRY. I'm seriously so sorry i took so long to get this chapter out! We're getting to the final stretch here, and I suppose I'm as reluctant to finish this story as y'all are to be done reading it. But I will get it done, and I will make sure it's everything I want it to be :) Thank you all for sticking with me!

“What?” Rick asked, “What do you mean, someone was in our camp?”

“He means someone came through here in the middle of the night. Traipsed ‘round our camp and left his tracks all over the damn place,” Merle said grimly.

“You’re sure?” Shane questioned, “I mean, there’s four of us. That’s a lot of prints to keep track of…”

“He was wearing boots with spurs on the back,” Daryl said, pointing to the foot of their tent where two deep indentations were situated side by side. “Rained the night before last. Ground was still soft. He sunk right in.”

Rick walked up to the set up prints Daryl was pointing towards and knelt down, scrutinizing them closely.

“How come these are so much deeper than the others?” Rick asked, directing his question back towards the Dixon brothers.

They shared a look again, and Shane immediately knew the answer.

“The longer he stood there, the deeper he sunk,” Shane said, looking back at Daryl for confirmation. The younger teen nodded.

“Shit,” Rick hissed, pacing now. “Shit. Shit. We need to pack up and leave.”

“No, we don’t-” Merle immediately interrupted.

But Rick cut him off, “No, fuck that! You’re telling me some psychopath was standing outside our tent last night for what- thirty minutes, an _hour_? And you want to _stay_?”

“It was probably just some drunk asshole who’s got a cabin near here stumbling onto our camp. No harm no foul,” Merle tried to reason with him.

“Yeah? And how long would he have had to stand out there to make footprints that deep?” Rick countered.

“To be fair, he didn’t actually do anything to us,” Daryl finally piped up, “Showed up, stood there, then left. But if we go home now, and tell the _Sheriff_ about this...he’s gonna have the whole goddamn force out here lookin’ for someone who might just be some backwoods shiner minding his own business.”

“But what if he’s not?” Rick pressed, “What if this guy’s dangerous?”

“If he was lookin’ to hurt us, last night woulda been a damn good opportunity to do so,” Shane pointed out.

“What kind of rational explanation could there be for someone standing outside our tent for that long in the middle of the fucking night out in bumfuck nowhere?!” Rick shouted.

“We ain’t saying the guy’s normal,” Daryl replied calmly, “Seems pretty damn unhinged, from where I’m standing. But we go back now, just ‘cuz some footprints spooked us, and your folks are never letting us out on our own again. Not to go camping, not for nothing.”

“We’re moving on today, anyways,” Merle agreed, “Chances this asshole can track worth a damn are pretty low. By sundown tonight, we’ll have twenty miles between us.”

Rick still look frightened, but he hung his head in resignation.

“ _Fine_ ,” he muttered sullenly, “Let’s leave already, then.”

TWDTWDTWDTWD

“So what’s prison like?” Rick asked all too suddenly, a good four hours into their hike.

Judging by the way Merle’s shoulder’s went taut as a two by four, Shane figured that was the wrong question to ask, and especially not now.

“The fuck do you think it was like, kid?” Merle growled, not bothering to turn and acknowledge Rick as they continued on.

“I don’t know, that’s why I asked,” Rick replied innocently. But not _entirely_ innocent, as Shane noted. Rick knew good and well that he was pressing Merle’s buttons.

They continued on in tense silence for about ninety seconds before Rick decided to open his mouth again.

“Were you in a gang? I heard you need to be in a gang, to survive in prison.”

“Heard right.”

“So who’d you line up with?”

“Take a look at my skin, boy. Who do you think?” Merle spat.

“White power, then?” Rick followed up, unperturbed by Merle’s sour attitude.

“Jesus H. Christ,” Merle grumbled, just as Daryl muttered, “For fuck’s sake,” at his adoptive brother’s antics. The younger Dixon opted to hang back a few yards, walking with Shane instead and ignoring their continuing argument.

Shane brushed his hand across the small of Daryl’s back, waited for the boy to meet his eyes.

“You worried?” Shane asked, pointedly, because he trusted the other boy’s judgment on this.

Daryl considered lying, briefly. Putting Shane’s mind at ease. But he equally understood that there was no chance the older boy wouldn’t see right through his charade.

“Heard somethin’ last night,” Daryl murmured instead, “Can’t be sure… but before we fell asleep, thought I heard someone screaming.”

Shane’s eyes flicked to his, big and brown and worried. _“Someone,_ not something? Sometimes the animals out here sound like people, and at night-”

“Someone,” Daryl confirmed.

Shane appraised him. “How can you be sure?”

“‘Cuz...fuck, I’m pretty sure they were screaming a word. Ain’t no animal that can do that.”

Shane rubbed his hand over the back of his head. “What word?”

“Help,” Daryl whispered, afraid to turn his head towards Shane for a reaction.

“Jesus, Daryl. Why the hell didn’t you say anything?”

“Too much open space out here,” Daryl sighed, “Big ass cliffs everywhere. Trees. Even if I was sure, fuckin’ positive that what I heard was someone screaming for help, there wasn’t a chance we’d have been able to find them. Woulda run off into those woods trippin’ over own feet, lost sight of each other. Whole thing woulda put us way further up shit creek than waiting ‘til morning and keeping our heads.”

“So you think, what, that there’s a guy out here? And he’s got a hostage?”

“Pretty much. Voice sounded kinda high. M’guessin’ it’s a girl.”

Shane let out an angry breath of air through his nose. “Why the fuck would someone bring a girl all the way out here?”

Daryl cocked an eyebrow at him pointedly. “Why do you think?”

“Fuck,” Shane whispered, “Fuck! Why the hell didn’t we turn back this morning? We need to get the fucking cops down here.”

“Couldn’t head back towards the cars with this fucker on our trail. Ground’s still soft enough that any moron with eyes could follow well enough. We’d be leading him back to our only means of transport. What would happen if he beat us there? Circled in front of us and realized those trucks were our only chance of getting out of this place?”

“Christ,” Shane let out under his breath. “Fuck. Ok. So we couldn’t go back to the cars. Ain’t got any service, so we can’t call for help. But if the ground’s soft enough that he coulda followed us to the trucks, then don’t that mean he could be following us now?”

“He isn’t,” Daryl said, shrugging a shoulder.

“How do you know?” Shane immediately questioned.

Daryl caught his gaze, and lowered his voice to the barest whisper. “Because we’re following him.”

Shane gaped at him. “We’re…” He floundered for words.

“C’mon, man. You really think me and Merle would let that go? Some asshole comin’ into our camp, bringing some poor girl out here to do god knows what to her? Fuck that. One look and we both knew we were gonna follow this motherfucker.”

“What do we do when we find him?” Shane asked.

“I figure Merle’s bound to wanna beat him to death,” Daryl sighed, “Never did take to well to men hurting women. Not after...after our mom. But I think between the two of us, we’ll be able to talk him down. Beat the guy unconscious instead, haul him back to Sheriff Grimes and get that girl home.”

“If you don’t mind me saying, this is a shit awful plan,” Shane said, bumping his shoulder into Daryl’s.

“Yup,” Daryl agreed, “But it’s the only one we got.”

TWDTWDTWDTWD

They made camp on a ridge, protected on one side by a steep incline.

The sun had just dipped down below the trees when the shrieking began again. It echoed out from between the trees, bouncing from surface to surface until the origin was lost into the brush.

Merle was immediately on his feet, screaming right on back, “You get out here, motherfucker! I’ll fuckin’ kill you!”

Daryl rounded on him, shoving the elder Dixon back with two hands and silencing him, if only briefly.

“First rule of tracking is to keep fucking quiet,” Daryl seethed, reminding Merle of the rule he’d taught him, years before.

Merle spat at the ground and stomped his way into the tent. Daryl considered it a win.

“Should go get some wood, before it’s really dark out,” Daryl said.

Rick nodded. “Don’t go alone.” He was speaking to Daryl, but looking at Shane. The jock jerked his head in assent and followed Daryl out towards the treeline.

“We should stay close,” Shane said quietly, while he followed Daryl deeper into the woods.

“We will,” Daryl promised, “Just don’t wanna get overheard.”

Shane smirked at him. “Ya got somethin’ planned, sweetheart?”

Daryl blushed, and stopped short, apparently content with their distance from camp.

“Just…” he started, before melting into Shane’s chest face first, wrapping his arms around the older boy and walking him back into the closest tree.

“Hey,” Shane murmured, running his hands up Daryl’s back in slow circles, “It’s alright. We’re fine.”

Daryl buried his face in Shane’s neck. “Don’t like this. Gotta do it, but I don’t like it.”

Shane pressed his lips to Daryl’s temple. “But we’ve gotta do it,” he echoed, and Daryl nodded.

The younger boy looked up at him through shaggy bangs. “Kiss me,” he asked. Asked, but did not demand. He knew that he could demand it, that Shane would give him just about anything. But right now he needed to be reassured, and there was nothing more reassuring than Shane permitting him to have everything he needed, okaying every step of the way.

So Shane kissed him. He pulled Daryl’s lips between his, kissed him slowly and reversed their positions, so Daryl was pressed against the rough bark of the tree. He took Daryl by the wrists and moved his hands to his neck, melded their bodies impossibly closer.

“When we get home, we’re spending an entire day in bed,” Shane whispered with his forehead pressed to Daryl’s, “Hell. _Two_ days. Gonna taste every inch of you. Make you lose it so many times you ain’t gonna be able to stand without my help.”

“Shane,” Daryl whimpered, “Fuck…”

“I love you,” Shane murmured as he nibbled his way down Daryl’s neck. The younger boy shuddered uncontrollably against him, cock straining against the confines of his jeans. “Gonna show you how much. Wanna make you feel, ya know? Wanna make you feel _everything_. For me.”

“Could get behind that,” Daryl rasped, clinging to Shane’s biceps.

“Behind, huh?” Shane teased, “You got some preferences y’ain’t told me about?”

“Shuddup,” Daryl muttered, claiming Shane’s lips again, “Just ‘cuz I love ya don’t mean I gotta take your shit.”

“You gonna kick me to the curb?” Shane asked, coming to his knees in front of Daryl.

The younger boy’s breathing stuttered to a stop as Shane deftly unbuckled his belt and pulled down his fly.

“Not just yet,” Daryl replied brokenly, grunting softly when Shane took him into his mouth. To Shane, this moment brought back memories of attending church as a child. Purity that shone straight through him in its truth. Bringing Daryl pleasure, like taking communion.

There was nothing like it. Nothing that could come close to that moment of euphoria when Daryl would look down at him, pupils blown wide with arousal, and Shane would know without a shadow of a doubt that Daryl _knew_. Knew that he cared. Knew that Shane loved him with everything he had. Knew that Shane would die for him, breathe for him, lay down in traffic for him. Anything, to see the younger boy’s features soften, if only briefly, with the knowledge that he was loved.

Shane looked up at him, and those big, brown eyes exploded across the realm of Daryl’s vision. They were all he could see.

“Shane,” Daryl whispered, twining his fingers into the older boy’s hair.

Torturous tongue descended further south, lapping at the sensitive orbs that twitched upwards with every swipe against his sensitive flesh.

“Don’t gotta hold back,” Shane murmured, “This is what I want, tonight. Wanna be on my knees for you. Wanna swallow you.”

And even after all this time, Daryl still had to ask. “Why?”

“‘Cuz I’m yours just as much as you’re mine,” Shane didn’t hesitate to say, “And this is how I prove it.”

“Don’t need you to prove it,” Daryl whispered, holding Shane’s gaze. “Not anymore. Think...think I can finally hear it without wonderin’ why you’d bother.”

Shane smiled as well as he could around a mouthful of cock, and for that, he redoubled his efforts, moving his tongue over Daryl fast and hard until the younger boy was spilling down his throat with a loud groan.

“Fuck, Shane,” Daryl moaned, even as the older boy kissed his way back up his body, tucking him carefully back into his jeans. “Fuck. Shane.” He pulled the brown-haired boy flush against him, more than ready to reciprocate.

Daryl’s mouth was on Shane’s when the first branch snapped. It was hard to see through the thick darkness around them, but the sound couldn’t have been more than a few yards off. Another branch snapped. And then another, closer this time. Deliberate. Or haphazard, the motions of man who didn’t give a single fuck if he made noise as he approached them.

“Well, now. That was a hell of a show.”

A man in dark jeans worn through at the knees and a black button down shirt stepped out in front of them, smiling too fucking wide. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared, eyes glittering as he took them in.

“Who the fuck are you?” Daryl growled.

The man took a step forward, opening his arms as if in invitation. “Me? Why I’m your biggest fan!”

“The fuck do you want?!” Daryl shouted at him, but mostly to mask the sound of Shane’s whispered, “You go east, I go west. We meet back at camp. On my mark.”

He spit it out in a rush, right into Daryl’s ear, and the archer nodded his understanding. It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was all they had.

“Ya know, that’s a hell of question,” the man drawled, “Been askin’ myself that quite a bit, these days. But right now? Right now I’m thinkin’ I’d like me a couple new toys to play with. The ones I’ve got now have gone and crapped out on me. Lost their sparkle, ya know what I mean?”

“Go!” Shane shouted abruptly.

With a sharp nudge to Daryl’s side, Shane and the younger Dixon took off simultaneously, sprinting in opposite directions and never once checking over their shoulders.

And Daryl ran his heart out. Bolting away from a madman wasn’t exactly new territory for him, and the faster he went the safer his family would be. He didn’t permit himself to look back.

Shane, though, Shane shot forward ten yards, pivoted on his heel, then thundered back towards where he came at full speed. There wasn’t a chance in hell he was running from this fucker. Not with Daryl in the line of fire, and his best friend off waiting by the sidelines. No, with Daryl out of immediate danger, Shane did the only think he could do. The only thing his instincts allowed. He attacked.

And the man looked surprised, fleetingly. Maybe even impressed. Shane tackled him head-on, and smiled as he did it. He had this motherfucker. It was done.

Done, if not for the taser the man had cleverly slipped into his back pocket.

Shane never saw it coming. And by the time he recognized the danger he was in, the jock was already laying on the forest floor, twitching helplessly in pain.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

Daryl crashed back into camp with none of the grace that he was known for. Merle and Rick both stood up from their respective spots by the campfire.

But before they could question him, Daryl asked, “Where’s Shane?”

His eyes darted between the two of them, already knowing the answer.

“He’s not with you?” Rick replied in a small voice, and Daryl felt his chest cave.

“No. No!” Daryl shouted, frantic. He ran to his crossbow and threw it recklessly over his shoulder. “We got ambushed. Split up. I gotta go back for him. I gotta-”

Merle hooked him by the arm, and drew him back, trying his best to keep his baby brother still.

“Hey, just take a breath. We’re gonna find him. We are. I just need ya to tell me what’s what before we go running head-first into a shit storm,” Merle said.

“He took Shane, Merle!” Daryl screamed.

“Did you _see him_ get taken?” Merle growled back.

That gave Daryl pause. “No,” he said after a beat, “No, but that fucker was watching us. If he didn’t go after me, it woulda been him. He said he wanted new toys. Fuck, c’mon, we have to-”

“Just ‘cuz he ain’t here don’t mean that asshole nabbed him,” Merle tried to explain, “Kid ain’t no kind of tracker. Ya had him running off into the woods by himself. Could just be lost. Now what we need to do is-”

Merle cut himself off, probably for the first time Daryl couldn’t remember.

No one stopped to appreciate it. Not when there was another scream echoing out through the forest. A scream that was neither feminine nor pleading. A shouted word starkly different than what they’d heard the night before.

“Daryl!”

“Shane? Shane!” Daryl called right back, and charged towards the treeline only to be stopped by Merle’s large arm hooking around his waist. Daryl fought him desperately. “Shane! Shane!!”

“Daryl!” The sound of Shane’s call echoed all around them. “Daryl! Dar-!”

The noise stopped abruptly, as if Shane had ceased to exist.

“No,” Daryl whimpered, still fighting against Merle’s hold. “No! Shane! Sha-!”

Merle clamped his hand over his brother’s mouth, pressed his own lips close to his ear.

“Need you to calm down, okay? We’re gonna get him, but not ‘til you calm down.”

Daryl went boneless in his big brother’s arms, sagging towards the ground.

“I can’t lose him, Merle,” Daryl croaked out, “I can’t lose him. I can’t.”

“You ain’t losin’ shit,” Merle rumbled fiercely, “I got a plan, alright? I promise you, baby brother. We’re getting him back.”


	25. Chapter 25

Daryl winced as he pulled his hands away from the rough bark of the tree. He’d been leaning against the branch long enough now that deep grooves littered his hands, as well as a smattering of shallow scrapes. His back ached from maintaining his crouched position, and neck screamed in protest each time he conceded to crack it gently. But it was the dull kind of pain, the kind that could be ignored and forgotten in the right circumstances.

Shane was counting on him, and there was no amount of pain that could distract Daryl from his task.

From a treetop across the way, Merle shot his brother a curt nod. Nothing yet, the gesture told him, but stay sharp. He’ll be here.

They’d smoldered the fire haphazardly, doing a poor enough job of it that smoke still billowed up into the night sky. The goal was to seem hasty and inexperienced. The perfect bait, especially with Rick slumbering away in the tent below.

At least, Merle was convinced Rick would be out like a light as soon as his head hit the pillow. Daryl knew better. Rick may have been the softest of the four of them, the one with the least knowledge of survival and least aggressive nature, but he was also fiercely loyal to the people he cared about. If Daryl knew Rick at all, the boy was lying stiff as a board in that tent, eyes wide open and knife clutched in his hand. It had only made sense for Rick to play the damsel in distress, but doing so knowingly took balls of steel.

Daryl cracked his knuckles methodically, and kept his eyes trained on the tree line opposite.

Finally, a figure appeared from below, and Daryl held his breath. The man- maybe the one from earlier, it was too hard to tell in the black of night- walked up to the front of the tent. He had a small parcel in his hands, wrapped up like a birthday present.

Daryl looked towards Merle, hoping to catch his brother’s eye, formulate some sort of unspoken plan like they always did. But it appeared today wasn’t going to be one of Merle’s cool and rational days. Groaning in frustration, Daryl watched as Merle vaulted from the tree in which he was perched and slammed into the man from above.

The younger Dixon didn’t waste time with a sigh before clambering out the tree right after him, and drawing his bow at the writhing figure Merle was fighting to overpower.

“You want an arrow up the ass, motherfucker? You best stay down!” Daryl shouted. The sudden sound of a voice from an unnamed source threw the man off just long enough that Merle was able to best him. He clocked the man in the head, not hard enough to knock him out, but certainly with enough force to daze him. Rick threw Merle a furl of rope, and the older Dixon made quick time in tying the man’s hands behind his back.

It was the man who’d ambushed them earlier, in all his mad-eyed too-wide smile glory. He smirked up at Daryl and licked his lips lewdly.

“You want some that bad, sugar? All you had to do was ask!” the man cooed, thrusting his hips once in the air. Merle punched him square in the jaw in a fit of rage. Daryl didn’t so much as blink.

“Where did you take him?” Daryl growled.

“Aw, he’s safe. Probably bendin’ over for my buddies right about now,” the man mocked, “I’m sure he’ll be up for round two by the time y’all find him, though. Ain’t nearly as breakable as them whiny little bitches.”

Merle shoved his shotgun in the man’s face, eyes bulging, and screamed, “Shut the hell up!”

And then much more quietly, from behind them, Rick rasped, “What’s in the box?”

Three sets of eyes darted towards him, and the carefully wrapped box clenched between his shaking hands.

Rick swallowed hard and spoke up again. “There’s...it’s bleeding. The box, it’s…”

Merle was on his feet in a heartbeat, grabbing the parcel out of Rick’s hands while Daryl kept his bow carefully trained on their captive’s head. The elder Dixon grabbed the box, ripping off the cartoon news clippings in which it was wrapped. When he finally popped open the lid, Daryl saw him set his jaw and stifle a gasp. It was bad. If Merle thought it was gasp-worthy, then it was really, truly bad.

Rick spat it out before Merle could stop him. “Oh my god. They cut off his finger. They cut off his fucking finger!”

The Sheriff’s son curled in on himself, knees crashing to the forest floor while he raked his hands painfully through his hair. “Oh, God. Oh God. Shane…”

A twitched eyebrow and harsh look in Merle’s direction, and Daryl and his brother traded places. He took the box from Merle’s outstretched hands, willing his hands to stay steady, and peered inside. Daryl clenched his eyes shut, bit down hard on his lip for three solid seconds, then let out a rush of breath through his nose.

“Rick,” he said, moving towards his adopted brother’s crouched form. He laid a hand down on his shoulder, forced the boy to look at him. “Rick, stop. It ain’t him. Ain’t his.”

Rick looked up at him, blue eyes brimming with hope and unshed tears. “It’s not?”

Merle smacked their captive in the head once, just for the hell of it. He looked to Daryl. “Baby brother, you sure?”

Daryl looked between the two of them, earning confused glares from both men when his lips quirked into an inappropriately wide smile.

“Trust me, I know Shane’s fingers. And this ain’t one of his.”

“But-” Rick started to protest.

“Rick,” Daryl interrupted flatly, “The guy’s had his fingers inside me more times than I can count. Think I don’t know what they look like? These are too short. Too skinny. They ain’t Shane’s, alright? I’m positive. Probably a trophy from whatever girl this fucker’s got stashed out in these woods.”

“Smart and pretty,” the man on his knees cooed, “You and me are gonna get along just fine, sweet pea.”

Merle stormed over to him, eyes all fury and death, and slammed the heel of his boot against the side of the man’s face. When their captive crumpled towards the ground, Merle pushed further still, and laid his foot down onto the man’s neck, increasing the pressure with each passing second.

“You listen, and you listen good,” Merle growled, “You’re gonna tell us where you took our boy. You’re gonna fuckin’ show us. And if you don’t, if you ain’t in the fuckin’ move, then you die here. Today. With a bolt up your ass and my boot down your goddamn throat. Now, you got anything you want to tell us?”

TWDTWDTWDTWD

Shane awoke with a jolt. He was laid sideways on a rough wooden floor, hands tied behind his back. His head was pounding, and he could feel blood trickling from behind his ear. That fucker had hit him hard..

He was facing a wall, so Shane rolled up onto his knees to take in his surroundings. He was in a room. A small one, at that, with no windows and barely enough space to pace a divot into the floor, if he were so inclined. The only light came from the crack underneath the door, but the sliver of illumination it provided was hardly enough to make out his feet on the ground, let alone scour for an escape.

Shane knew he should stay quiet. If he held out long enough, convinced how ever many guys there were out there that he wasn’t a threat, then he might just be able to live to see Daryl again.

But then a sharp scream cut into his thoughts. Feminine and broken and pleading. So much closer now, he could hear just what the woman was saying. Please kill me. Please just kill me. Please.

“Hey!” Shane screamed at the top of his lungs, his alpha brain and deep-seeded desire to protect overruling the part of his mind that knew what he was doing was dangerous. “Hey, motherfucker! Get your ass in here!”

His wish was fulfilled all too soon. There was a stampede of heavy footfalls, and then the door to his room swung open with a thud. Rather than one man standing in his way, the face of a man Shane already knew, it was three strangers who shadowed his doorway.

“C’mon, then” Shane seethed, unperturbed. “Gonna hurt some poor innocent girl? Untie me, you fuckers! Let’s see how you stack up against someone your own fucking size.”

But when three sets of hands were scrabbling to reach for him, Shane’s back pressed into the corner and eyes locked onto the three predatory snarls fast approaching...well, maybe Shane regretted opening his mouth a little. Just enough to make the hits sting, as well as ache.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

The man on his knees kept laughing, and laughing, and fucking laughing. And Daryl was tired of it. He dropped his bow to the ground, plucked his knife from his belt, and hauled the maniacal skeleton up to his feet.

“Hold him,” Daryl demanded of his brother. And as soon as Merle complied, he cut away the man’s belt and jerked open his fly. Merle’s expression was confused, at best, but Daryl’s was plain vicious.

“What, now you ain’t interested?” Daryl taunted. “Thought this was what you wanted, right? To get your dick wet?”

The man’s cocky facade finally began to crumble, and Daryl saw true shock and alarm flash behind his eyes.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” Daryl growled, “I’m gonna cut off one of them nuts of yours. Get your dick nice and wet, that’s what you wanted right? And then, if you take us where we need to go- take us to wherever the hell you’re stashing Shane- then I might just let ya keep the other one. If you make damn sure not to waste our time on the way.”

Daryl pressed the tip of his knife down, down, and further down, relishing the way their captive hissed and flinched in fear.

“Now,” he drawled, deathly quiet, “You got something you wanna tell me?”

TWDTWDTWDTWD

Shane wheezed against the scuffed up floor and tried to catalogue his injuries. A few broken ribs. A dislocated shoulder. A deep cut across the length of his left arm, with an accompanying pair of grapefruit-sized bruises at the center of his back from when they’d held him down to inflict it. The worst of it so far, or at least the bit that had Shane most worried, was the concussion he was nearly sure he had. His hearing kept dropping out abruptly, vision going blurry. And the pounding headache of now multiple blows to the skull was hard to mistake.

If their initial fervor for beating him bloody had been unprovoked, then their newfound enthusiasm boded of an early, unjust death. Where are your friends? Thud. What kind of weapons they got? Thud. Why the fuck isn’t Leo back yet? Thud. What did those faggot friends of yours do to him? Thud, thud, thud.

They never gave him more than a split second to answer, and Shane was positive that they were too methed-up to care. But with every minute that went by, their friend still somewhere in the woods-hunting his friends and family, no doubt- the hits became harder and more frequent.

For now, at least, he’d earned a short respite while they bickered amongst themselves.

“What if he doesn’t come back?” one of them whispered, “He coulda been caught by the pigs. Cops could be on their way here right now! We oughta burn the shit out of this place and get gone.”

“Or he’s taking his time killin’ this faggot’s boyfriend,” another countered, “Gettin’ a body buried ain’t quick. And he’s got three on his hands.”

“They could have killed him,” the third man said, “Three against one ain’t good odds for the best of ‘em. I’m with Ed. Shoot the bitch and the fairy, burn this place up, and find us a new place to cook.”

“Fuck that,” the second man interjected. Shane figured him the leader. “We ain’t turnin’ our backs on all this equipment unless we’re damn sure we have to. It’d take us months to steal it all back, and find us another place to cook. Naw. We give Leo more time. ‘Til then, we can have our fun with the girl, and this sack of shit.”

Shane didn’t need to open his eyes to know they were looking towards him again. He sucked in a sharp breath and shoved himself up to a sitting position. He opened his eyes and took them in: three hunched and looming figures with shirts thinning in strange places and faces that were hollow and pale. They hadn’t smiled his way since he’d woken up here, not even a cocky leer, but Shane was willing to bet his left kidney that if they had, he’d have seen three sets of candy-corn yellow teeth. If they still had full sets of teeth at all.

Shane’s breathing was so shallow,he doubted that his chest was moving at all. Still, he forced his lungs to fill even slower, as not to draw attention to himself. They were staring, waiting for him to make some kind of move or noise. A challenge. A sigh of defeat.

The girl in the next room was crying again. Softly, the way a person did when she was afraid to let her sorrow break free. And not with nearly the intensity of the sobs she’d gasped out when Satan’s trio had been in there with her earlier. But in the midst of suffering so deep and long-lasting, she couldn’t seem to keep the tears at bay.

Shane considered giving these men what they wanted. He could send them on a wild goose chase, provide some dead end location that one would go out and investigate while the other two remained at the cabin. He could even insist on leading one of them there themselves. Maybe get the jump on the guy when they were out in the woods alone.

But the fact remained that any plan he hatched would invariably involve leaving the girl in the next room to fend for herself. Even if he did manage to overpower the guy, and that was a big if considering the current state of his body, the girl currently whimpering in the adjacent room would be left alone for an unpredictable amount of time. Shane couldn’t know for sure what they’d do to her in his absence, but he had a good idea.

Shakily, much more shakily than he’d hoped for, he locked his eyes on the men in front of him and stood up as straight as he could. He pushed himself away from the wall, and squared his feet underneath him.

“Well?” he asked, chin tipped up and eyes lit up the same way they had before he’d fought Will Dixon, “That all you got?”

TWDTWDTWDTWD

The door to the closet Shane had once been locked inside was cracked open, and from his spot on the floor, Shane could see his three captors smoking and drinking in the main room of the cabin. They were hyped up and at each other’s throats, but still, Shane was thankful they weren’t cutting his.

The girl next door seemed to similarly understand that they weren’t in any immediate danger. She was humming to herself, quietly. It reminded Shane of the handful of times he’d been to Church with his mother, as a boy. He’d always hated putting on a collared shirt, a tie even more. And the shoes his mother insisted he wear were gaudily shiny and pinched his toes. For Shane and his mother, the process of getting dressed for Church was always a long, and stretched-out fight. But whatever animosity was left between them melted as soon as they stepped through the tall wooden doors.

Their church had a choir. Not the kind that attended national competitions or brought any notoriety to the town, but a group of men and women who were famous in their own right. Known in spirit by every single member of their small town. Their voices weren’t perfect, but their intentions were pure. And as soon as their low and harmonious melodies hit Shane’s ears, the tension would drip away from his body and he’d shoot his mother a wide smile.

The girl in the next room was singing one of the hymns he’d heard in church such a long time ago. And for the first time in hours, Shane thought that maybe even if he didn’t survive the night, he’d still be okay. That maybe his surviving and things being okay would not be mutually exclusive.

There was a string of harsh words and sickening grunts, and then the men all stood up and lumbered to the back room. The girl’s humming stopped, abruptly.She didn’t bother to scream, this time. So Shane did it for her.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

When Daryl spotted the cabin through the trees, he shoved their captive at Merle and broke out into a sprint. He wasn’t stupid enough to scream Shane’s name, not when they’d already gagged the sick fuck they were dragging along with them, and when they were depending so absolutely on the element of surprise.

“Daryl!” Merle hissed sharply from behind him, “Daryl, wait!”

Daryl heard him, but the words came belatedly, like an echo in a deep cave. And with every reflex in his body pointing towards find Shane and get to Shane now, there was no room to react to Merle’s useless cries. With his brother still tying up the man to a nearby tree, and whispering hurried directions into Rick’s ear, Daryl hoisted his bow up onto his shoulder, felt once to ensure his knife was safely at his hip, and burst through the front door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, NOBODY PANIC. Cliffhangers are gonna be a thing, until the Epilogue. (Which is only two chapters away HOW the bloody hell did that happen??). I love y'all and I love Sharyl. Thanks for taking this ride with me :)


	26. Chapter 26

Even though the men in the cabin had only left Shane’s door open a crack, Daryl’s eyes struck gold on the first try. He couldn’t see much. Really, it was just a sliver of skin. A pale inch of discolored cheek that the average man wouldn’t have been able to discern from Adam. But where others might just have seen the beginning of an arched brow, the strong slope of a defined jaw, Daryl saw one thing and one thing only.

_Shane._

Daryl vaulted towards that door, and that sliver of skin. Clouded by tunnel vision, his body snapped towards Shane’s like two magnetic puzzle pieces falling into place. His vision narrowed until there was only that line of bruised stubble. And Daryl might have still been in control of his body, but he didn’t want to be.

“Shane!”

Too loud, and he could hear the footsteps coming, but it didn’t matter anymore. Because Shane was lying too still on the floor, and from this angle, Daryl couldn’t see his eyes.

Daryl was less than a half-step away when there was a twitch. It was slight, but the archer latched onto it all the same, and fell to his knees by Shane’s side.

“Shane,” he grit out again, “Shane, c’mon. Gotta wake up. Please.”

He was tilting Shane’s head towards him, desperate to see something, anything. And distantly he could hear Merle storming into the cabin. Out of his periphery, he saw Merle barrel head-first into two of the men, while Rick slipped past them towards the back room.

Shane groaned under his breath and blinked his eyes open blearily to stare up at Daryl.

“Hey,” Daryl murmured, “Hey, it’s okay. I’m here. Just gotta get up, man. Gotta get out of here.”

He whipped his knife out of its holster and began to saw at the ropes binding Shane’s wrists. The thumping of knuckles against bone kept echoing from behind him, as well as snarled words from unfamiliar mouths.

_“Gonna beat your faggot ass into the ground.” “That all you got, boy?” “Kick off those high heels and fight me like a man!”_

More worrying than that were the voices still coming from the back of the house- Rick’s even, hurried words. A girl’s desperate cries. The thick drawl of a predator cornering its prey.

With Daryl still fighting to untie him, Shane struggled to sit up. He leaned heavily against the wall, panting with the effort it had taken to move.

“Daryl,” he mumbled, words a little too slurred for the younger boy’s liking, “You gotta get out of here. S’not safe.”

“Not without you,” Daryl said firmly. The ropes finally fell from Shane’s wrists, and Daryl grinned triumphantly. “C’mon,” he urged again, throwing Shane’s arm over his shoulders and pulling until they were both standing. Shane whimpered out a pained sound, and his ribs screamed in protest, but he managed to find his footing.

The two men had pushed Merle towards the kitchen, and their backs were to Daryl and Shane now. It wasn’t a good spot for a fight. Too many hard angles, blunt objects, and sharp cutlery that could easily be repurposed as a weapon. Merle was struggling. Fighting two men half their size would have been a challenge, and it was a goddamn miracle the men hadn’t figured out how to work together, but Daryl knew it was a matter of time before one of them got the jump on him.

He caught Merle’s eye. A fraction of a second.

“Go,” Merle mouthed, clear as day.

Daryl tightened his grip on Shane and made for the door. The cabin wasn’t large by any man’s standards. And without the heavy weight of Shane draped over his side, Daryl could have had his feet in the grass in seconds. But whatever energy Shane had mustered to get to his feet, it was gone now. Daryl dragged him forward, slow but sure.

Shane’s foot caught on the molding at the bottom of the door. Daryl looked down, just long enough for him to grab ahold of the older boy’s leg and give it a firm tug. But by the time Daryl’s fingertips made contact with the denim at Shane’s thigh, Shane wasn’t in his arms anymore.

“Daryl, look out!”

Hands that had been limp just a second before darted out and shoved Daryl behind him. The force of it had Daryl stumbling backwards through the doorframe. And he watched, helpless, as a third man ran Shane through with a butcher knife.

The criminal seemed the most surprised of the three of them, staring down at the bloodied knife with wide eyes. Shane staggered back and back, until the porch banister stopped him. The world seemed to shoot upwards into the sky, and distantly, Shane recognized that he was sliding towards the ground.

But that didn’t matter. It couldn’t, when the body Shane knew every inch of- with its strong shoulders, captivating biceps, and piercing blue eyes- was flying through the air straight towards a man Shane knew to be armed. He wanted to stand up, wanted to scream, but his limbs wouldn’t cooperate.

_“What did the frog do when his car broke down?” Daryl asked. His eyes were sparkling in the midday sun, and Shane couldn’t look away. The grass they were lying in was long and poorly kept. Shane could see it_ tickling _up past Daryl’s ears._

_“What?” Shane asked with a grin._

_“He got it_ toad _,” Daryl said. He managed to keep his straight face for about half a second before dissolving into a fit of giggles Shane would never have thought the boy capable of a few weeks before. Shane laughed right along with him, and pulled Daryl’s hand up over his chest, lacing their fingers together._

_“I like that one,” Shane chuckled, “Why does a hummingbird hum?”_

_Daryl turned his head to look at him, one eyebrow arched comically._

_“Because he doesn’t know the words,” Shane said. And this time, they fell into a fit of laughter in perfect sync._

_“What do you call a cow with two legs?” Daryl asked. Shane tugged at the boy’s opposite arm, and Daryl let him roll his relaxed body over until he was lying half on top of Shane._

_“I don’t know,” Shane said. “Tell me.”_

_“Lean beef,” Daryl murmured. And even though they weren’t giggling anymore, his smile was just as bright. Shane rubbed circles across the younger boy’s back. His fingers massaged at Daryl’s scalp, and he ran his nails lightly across the side of the boy’s neck. Smiled when he shivered._

_“What do you get when you cross a chicken and a vacuum?” Shane asked him._

_Daryl shrugged minutely, and laid his cheek against Shane’s chest._

_“A cocksucker,” Shane told him, eyebrows practically at his hairline. And he looked so goddamn proud of himself that Daryl couldn’t help but laugh._

_He smacked Shane on the shoulder, still chuckling. “That a proposition?”_

_Abruptly, Shane wrapped his arms around Daryl and flipped their positions. He let their lower bodies rest against each other, the ghost of a promise, and leaned down to nip once at Daryl’s lower lip._

_“That depends,” Shane said. “You interested?”_

Shane blinked rapidly and tried to stay focused on the world around him. A few feet away, Daryl was crouched over a motionless body. Blood was pouring from a face that didn’t look very much like a face anymore. And Daryl was in his own world, landing blow after blow and grunting even as his knuckles began to split.

“Daryl,” Shane tried to call out, but it didn’t sound like his voice at all. It was more cracking than sound, and Daryl didn’t make any indication he’d heard it.

“Daryl!” Shane croaked, putting every ounce of available will power behind it. The archer froze, and jerked his head back towards Shane. All at once, he shoved himself away from the unconscious body below him and crawled towards the older boy.

“Shane…” Daryl breathed. His lower lip was wobbling, but it was almost unnoticeable with how violently the rest of him was shaking. He pressed his hand down over the place where the knife had gone in.

“It’s okay,” Shane said, “It’s gonna be okay.”

“It’s not okay,” Daryl hissed. He blinked his eyes rapidly and tilted his head up towards the sky, hoping to hold the tears back. “Why’d you do that? He was coming for me, Shane. It was supposed to be me! What the fuck were you thinking?”

“Better me than you,” Shane replied with a crooked smile. It was getting harder to breathe, but he wouldn’t let that stop him.

Daryl shook his head. “That’s not true.”

“It is,” Shane said with quiet insistence. “It always has been. This,” he motioned down towards Daryl’s hand on his body. The place leaking blood too fast for Daryl to stop it. “This doesn’t matter. Doesn’t, ‘cuz you’re safe. ‘Cuz they didn’t hurt you. Promised you that, didn’t I? Promised I’d never let anyone hurt you again. Don’t you remember?”

“I remember,” Daryl whispered, “‘Course I do.” Tears were beginning to stream down his face, but he barely registered them.

“I keep my promises,” Shane said. “So this is okay, you see? You’re gonna be fine.”

“Stop it,” Daryl said, “Don’t talk like you ain’t gonna make it. Don’t do that.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Shane said again, “Because you’re fine. You’re okay. It’s- it’s- that’s the only thing.”

“You matter too,” Daryl said.

“Not as much,” Shane sighed. It was a constant fight not to look down towards his middle. He feared that one lengthy look at the amount of blood that had already escaped his body and he’d be done before he was ready. “Daryl…gotta tell you. Now, when you can’t get mad. Least, not as mad as you could get…”

“What is it?” Daryl asked him, “Whatever it is…”

“Your dad didn’t end up in jail by accident,” Shane said slowly. He took a moment to suck in a shuddering breath before continuing, kept his eyes on Daryl’s even when he knew that his saddened expression was about to contort into something angry and directed at him. “Planted those drugs on him. Had to make sure you’d be safe. Had to- after what he did- couldn’t-”

“Shh, s’alright,” Daryl murmured, holding Shane’s gaze. His face was open, if pained, but not the rageful mask Shane had expected.

“It is?”

“Already knew,” Daryl said, “That old fucker was too lazy to deal. And as far as drugs were concerned, he never strayed from his liquor. Knew it wasn’t his. And I ain’t mad. Never was. ‘Cuz...I never had someone care that much about me before.”

“You were worth it,” Shane said, “You’re always gonna be.”

Daryl smiled weakly and pressed as close to Shane as he could get. “That’s when I figured it out though, ya know? When I realized what you’d done for me- that’s when I knew I loved you. So you can’t go, Shane, you can’t. Please don’t.”

“Love you so much, Daryl,” Shane said, “Before you, wasn’t even sure I could. But I’m not the only one. You’ve got people now. People who care about you, love you. You deserve that. Always have, you just couldn’t see it.” He stopped to gasp in a breath. It felt like his lungs were shrinking slowly. Every inhale became more exhausting, and less satisfying. “But it’s gonna be okay, now. Because you’ve got people. You won’t be alone, again. So- so it’s alright. This is alright.”

“Stop it,” Daryl begged, blue eyes overflowing as salty trails streaked down his face. “You’re not gonna die. Quit talkin’ like you’re gonna die.”

“I don’t want to,” Shane whispered, the quietest he’d been yet. Daryl pressed their foreheads together, entire body shaking with sobs he couldn’t hold back. “I don’t want to leave you. I’d never choose it. But, I don’t think I can stay.”

There was a mess of noise as someone ran around the corner, but Daryl’s eyes stayed on Shane.

“Stay awake,” Daryl begged him. “Stay with me. You’ve gotta stay, Shane, please.”

“Cops are coming!” Rick shouted distantly. And Shane couldn’t really make out the words Merle hollered in response, but he figured it didn’t matter. Not when his vision had gone black at the edges, until all he could see clearly were Daryl’s watery eyes. An ocean held back by a string, where he’d be happy to drown.

“Don’t go,” Daryl whispered, and Shane only realized belatedly that his response hadn’t quite made it out to Daryl’s ears.

_I don’t want to._

There was a lot more noise. Shane could sense it, but it came to him as an echo. Like a drop of dye shot through oil. So defused by the time it reached him that he could barely recognize it. Voices, he thought. A bunch of them, none recognizable.

“He’s over here!” Shane thought he heard Merle scream, “We need an ambulance!”

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but Daryl’s eyes, still fixed on him and pleading as much as eyes could alone.

“Shane,” Daryl rasped. And even though his voice was half-broken, Shane thought it was the sweetest thing he’d ever heard. The sound whispered through his synapses, warm and comforting. He’d never get tired of hearing Daryl say his name. And he wanted to tell Daryl as much, wanted to hold him and quiet his trembling.

Breathing that had been shallow and rapid evened out into nothing, and Shane finally let his eyes close.

_A hard rap on his second story window startled Shane awake in the dead of night. Legs still tangled in his sheets, he went plummeting to the floor as he attempted to get out of bed. Finally, he righted himself, and pulled back the curtains to his bedroom window. When he saw Daryl perched precariously on a branch outside, he pushed it open in a rush._

_“What are you doing here?” Shane asked, smiling, while Daryl grumbled at the same time, “You gonna let me in, or what?”_

_Shane grinned wider, and held out a hand to help Daryl inside. The boy slid in easily enough, but Shane didn’t miss the way he winced as he stood up properly._

_“He hurt you,” Shane growled, and Daryl away from him._

_“Nah. Must have pulled somethin’ hunting earlier,” Daryl said._

_He sidestepped Shane and walked over to the bed. Sat down gingerly and avoided the older boy’s gaze._

_Shane crouched down in front of him and put his hands on Daryl’s thighs, forcing eye contact._

_“Don’t lie to me about it,” Shane asked him, but his voice was pleading rather than accusatory. “You want to keep lying to everyone else- fine. But not to me.”_

_“I’m- m’not-” Daryl protested weakly._

_“You are,” Shane disagreed gently, “And it’s gotta be exhausting. Keeping up with all these stories. So, you don’t have to tell me what happened, but you don’t have to lie either. When you’re with me...just, relax. I’m not like the rest of them. I ain’t lookin’ for an explanation. M’just happy you’re here.”_

_Daryl shivered and set his hand down beside Shane’s, letting them touch, but only barely._

_“Can I stay here tonight?” Daryl asked him. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d slept at Shane’s, but it would be the first time he’d sought Shane out after a run in with his dad. And that meant something. It had to._

_“‘Course you can,” Shane said, smiling, “Wouldn’t let you leave if you tried.”_

_Shane helped Daryl undress, and they curled into bed together, Daryl’s back to Shane’s front. He kept his arm hooked over Daryl’s hip, rather than his middle, in fear of hurting him further. Shane could feel Daryl slowly uncoiling against him, and it filled him with pride. Daryl trusted him. Had to, if this was the place he ran to when he needed to feel safe. Needed time to lick his wounds in peace._

_But Shane could do him one better. He ran his palm gently over Daryl’s crotch. The younger boy exhaled quickly, so Shane did it again, more forcefully this time. Already, he could feel Daryl growing hard for him, and God, there was nothing better than being the one to make Daryl feel that way._

_“Shane…”_

_“Shh,” the older boy soothed. He pulled open Daryl’s boxers and wrapped a hand around him, relished the breathy moan he got in response._

_Shane began to stroke Daryl slowly, nipping and sucking at the side of his neck while Daryl squirmed in place._

_“That’s it,” Shane whispered, “Know you want it. S’alright.”_

_Daryl was rocking forward into Shane’s fist, and back against his aching length. For Shane, the friction was both too much and not enough. But he didn’t touch himself, didn’t think to try. This wasn’t about him._

_“Promise me you’ll always come here, if you’re hurt,” Shane whispered in Daryl’s ear. He jerked the younger boy faster._

_“Sh-Shane,” Daryl gasped._

_“Need you to promise, Daryl. That you’ll come here. Rick’s. Don’t matter where. But you don’t get to hide out and try to manage this shit on your own. Not anymore.”_

_Daryl groaned and thrust desperately into Shane’s grip._

_“Shane c’mon,” he moaned, “Need to- I need-”_

_“You need to promise,” Shane cut him off with a growl. He palmed the leaking head, just so. And it was more than Daryl could take._

_“I promise!” Daryl gasped, “Swear I will. But please. God, please Shane. Just-”_

_Shane tightened his grip at fucked his hand over the reddened tip of Daryl’s cock, just as Daryl’s own hand flew down to join him. And he couldn’t hold it anymore. Not with Shane holding him close and touching him so fucking perfectly and making everything else fade into the background._

_“Oh. Oh fuck,” Daryl groaned, curling in on himself as warm wetness streaked down his and Shane’s joined hands._

_“That’s what I want to hear,” Shane murmured a few moments later as he cleaned them up, “Gonna hold you to it, now.”_

_Daryl was a puddle of content muscle on the bed. His breathing had already gone slow and deep, and he couldn’t seem to open his eyes._

_“Can do you,” he mumbled into the sheets, “Just, just lemme…”_

_ “Shh,” Shane purred, pulling Daryl into his arms again, “Just sleep. Alright? Sleep.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't send me death threats for this chapter ;) I promise I'll get up the next one ASAP! Thank you guys for all your support!!


	27. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, thanks so much for going on this ride for me. I'm really sad to see this story end, but I also feel like this is the ending Shane and Daryl deserve. I hope it meets everyone's expectations. Thanks for your support and kind words and kudos! Enjoy.

Twelve years ago, Daryl didn’t think he’d survive through his Senior year. A year after that, his father was locked away, his brother was back, and Daryl let himself believe he might just make it out alive.

In the end, he’d outdone himself. There was a photo that sat on his nightstand. In it, he’s wearing a long green gown about which he’d fought endlessly with Mrs. Grimes.  The Sheriff is standing on his left, and Mrs. Grimes on the right. There’s a diploma in Daryl’s shaky hands.

That day, Merle had pulled him into a hug tighter than Daryl could ever recall receiving and told him he was proud. At the time, Daryl had shoved his face into his brother’s shoulder to hide the tears welling in his eyes. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard those words, not after so long under the Grimes’ loving care. But it was the first time a Dixon had gotten them out intact, and Daryl couldn’t have been happier.

That scared kid ten years ago would never have imagined what Daryl had become. Wouldn’t have believed in the slightest that he’d end up in college, accepted into a real-live four-year college, to study anything he wished. Definitely wouldn’t have been able to fathom his graduating with _two_ degrees, one in automotive engineering and another in business. And that kid might have dreamt, but never dared hope, to find himself the owner of his own auto shop only a decade later.

They’d renamed the place Dixon Motors when Dale retired, and Daryl got to come in every morning and grin at that sign. It was the first time in his life his last name had been respected, even revered by some folks in town. Dixon wasn’t a place marker for a curse or put-down, not anymore. And even though it had taken Merle weeks of badgering to convince Daryl to put their name up so high where anyone could see it, the jackass had been right. Now, Daryl and Merle worked together every day, only bickering half the time, and snorted ruthlessly whenever a customer referred to one of them as _Mr. Dixon_.

Daryl’s legs were peeking out from underneath a slick, black Chevy. He was still partial to getting his hands dirty, even if it meant working late a night or two each week to keep the books up to date and catch up on orders. A warm, denim-clad leg pressed up against his calf.

“Need any help down there, sugar?” a sickly-sweet voice asked.

Daryl rolled his eyes. It was just an oil change, any moron with a socket wrench could do it. But ever since high school, every slut in town seemed to know he swung both ways. And he’d seen this particular stringbean cruising by in his truck three times now, apparently trying to time his visit for a day when Daryl was working in the shop.

“Nope,” Daryl said. He kicked out his legs and slid out from under the truck, hopped to his feet unassisted even as the man in front of him held out a helpful hand. Daryl sidestepped him and shoved the red rag in his fist into the back pocket of his jeans. “You’re all set.”

“Already?” the man crooned, batting his eyelashes so hard it was practically comical. He closed the distance between them, and Daryl had to fight not to shove him back. Assaulting a customer wasn’t exactly good for business. “But we were just getting acquainted.”

“I’ll just go in back, get your receipt,” Daryl muttered, trying to move around him again.

“Wait!” the boy said. A hand darted out to grab him by the wrist, and this time Daryl couldn’t help it. He pushed the guy away hard, then grabbed him by the collar to keep him standing. A split second, and he dropped the kid entirely, taking a step back.

“Sorry,” Daryl mumbled under his breath, “What do ya want?”

“It’s nothing,” the boy said, completely unfazed. He smiled a set of movie-star white teeth and leaned in. “It’s just...the truck’s been making a noise. Thought you might check it out for me.”

“A noise,” Daryl repeated, one eyebrow cocked incredulously.

“Yeah, a sort of high-pitched....uh, rattling,” he said.

Daryl crossed his arms over his chest.

Another dazzling smile. “Please?” He stepped closer, apparently neglectful of his own safety, and put his hand on Daryl’s forearm.

And Daryl was about to push the moron away. About to _really_ lay him on his ass this time and tell him to get himself and his girly fucking truck out of here pronto. But then there was a screech of tires as a car slammed to a halt in front of the shop, and a succession of honks that could only mean one thing.

Daryl would know that cruiser anywhere.

He’d worked it over more times than he could count, and in fact had a contract with the county police offering them a special rate for their exclusive business. But that cruiser, the one billowing up dust outside, was his favorite. And it claimed the title mainly because of who sat inside it.

The days after what happened at the cabin were a blur, and Daryl had tried for years to burn the time he’d spent there from his memory. There was only one good thing that had come from that nightmare, and he was stepping out of the driver’s side of the cruiser with a grin on his face.

Daryl never would have pegged Rick for a cop, not when they were growing up. But something about saving that girl in the cabin had stuck with him. Maybe the adrenaline, maybe helping someone who needed helping or putting away some fuck-ups that deserved a hell of a lot worse. Daryl figured what had really sealed the deal was when the first cop on the scene took Rick aside to tell him what a good job he’d done, how he’d saved that girl’s life and he ought to think of joining the force one day.

That statement had stuck with the young Grimes, right up until his first day at the academy. And maybe Daryl wouldn’t have expected Rick to follow his father’s footsteps into law enforcement when they first met. But now, he wouldn’t have it any other way. Especially considering who the Chief had assigned as Rick’s partner.

A head of dark, short-cropped hair popped up out of the car as soon as it came to a stop, and Daryl only had to cast a single fleeting glance in his big brother’s direction to know that Merle had called him there.

Shane stormed up to him with a deep frown. He gave the stringbean at Daryl’s side the once-over, eyes streaming up and down his body with menace. Then, he grabbed Daryl by the neck and pulled him into a searing kiss.

Even with Merle whooping it up in the background, and Rick’s dramatic groan of _“Really, guys?”_ , Daryl couldn’t help but melt right into it. Kissing Shane was always like that. It kept him centered, made the rest of the world fade away and any fears or judgments drift off with the wind. It was a display of dominance, that same alpha mentality that had had him and Shane at odds so many times before, but Daryl couldn’t get enough of it.

When Shane finally pulled back an inch or so to breathe, Daryl followed his lips with a light moan.

The stringbean gaped at them with an open mouth and wide eyes.

Shane smirked hard at his stunned expression. “Want somethin’, boy?”

He grinned at Daryl, eyes sparkling in a way the younger man knew meant trouble, and made for the garage. Shane didn’t need to look back to know that Daryl was only steps behind him. When they moved, they moved as a unit. Shane would never tire of that.

Inside, only just out of view, Shane stopped in front of a shiny spectacle of a four-wheeler.

“Is this that fucker’s truck?”

“Mmhmm,” Daryl confirmed. He let Shane pull him close, until they could feel the heat of each other’s mouths. “Merle called ya?”

“Said I needed to get down here and defend your honor,” Shane said with a chuckle. He nibbled along the column of Daryl’s neck. “How am I doin’?”

“Ain’t no damsel in distress,” Daryl huffed.

“Nah, you ain’t. But you are _mine_ ,” Shane said. His eyes had gone dark, and Daryl couldn’t look away. Shane backed him up until his ass met the truck-bed. “I’m gonna fuck you right here. Right on that jackass’s truck. Show him who you belong to.”

It wasn’t a question in construct, but Shane kept his arms loose on Daryl’s hips, giving him an out.

“Yeah,” Daryl whispered, “Yeah. Want you to.”

Shane smiled and ripped his shirt over his head in one smooth movement. He went for Daryl’s clothes next, tugging at a stubborn belt and popping off buttons while Daryl busied himself with opening Shane’s fly.

Naked and panting, Daryl fell back into the truck bed with Shane between his legs. Shane ground their rigid lengths together and sucked at the base of Daryl’s collar bone.

“Were you letting that kid get under your skin?” Shane asked.

“Wasn’t lettin’ him do nothin’,” Daryl grumbled, but he held tightly to Shane’s shoulders and pulled him impossibly closer. “He’s lucky I didn’t knock his teeth out.”

Shane chuckled lightly and let his mouth descend lower, nipping and licking at Daryl’s nipples until they were swollen peaks, until he twitched at the slightest touch.

“Can’t exactly blame him for appreciating the merchandise,” Shane murmured. “But everyone in town oughta know by now that you ain’t on the market. Never gonna be, huh?”

“No,” Daryl whined as Shane’s tongue dipped into his navel. “Don’t want no one else.”

“That’s right,” Shane said. He nibbled at the inside of Daryl’s thigh, and the younger man threw his head back and moaned. “‘Cuz I’m all you need, huh? No one else makes you feel this good.”

“Shane, please…” Daryl gasped. His legs were trembling, but he closed his hand around Shane’s wrist like a vice.

Shane caught his eye, smiled widely, and sucked Daryl’s cock down as far as it would go.

“Oh, fuck!” Daryl cried, as heat and wetness and pleasure hit him all at once. And even though he could hear Merle cackling away outside, and hear Rick slamming the cruiser door as he sought out some solace from the sound of him and Shane together, Daryl couldn’t get himself under control. Not when Shane’s head was bobbing up and down on his length, tongue swirling over the head and digging the tiniest bit into the slit until Daryl thought he might die.

Daryl writhed on the truck bed under Shane. He was too caught up in the openness of their location to watch, not when Shane looked so fucking sexy slurping away at his cock in the middle of the garage and in broad daylight. Hips twitching, Daryl moaned and fell onto his back. He dug his fingers into Shane’s shoulder.

Shane pulled away from him with an obscene pop, and Daryl let out a helpless whine.

“You’re fuckin’ beautiful, you know that?” Shane said. He ducked his head lower and wrapped his arms around Daryl’s thighs, pulling them up and apart.

Daryl’s stomach clenched wantonly and his breathing hitched. Shane had always been strong. Hard muscle from head to toe rather than the carefully sculpted arms that Daryl boasted. And even if they’d likely reign even in a match of strength, nothing ever had Daryl pulsing with need quicker than when Shane held him down and took control.

Shane ran the tip of his tongue over the furl of muscle in front of him, moaning a little himself when Daryl gasped and bucked in his arms. He flattened his tongue and lapped at Daryl’s pucker, then drove it down when the man in his arms relaxed.

“ _Shane_!” Daryl moaned, desperate, speared on Shane’s tongue with no way to escape. “Just fuck me. C’mon, Shane. Please!” His cock twitched against his belly as a shot of pre-cum splashed across his already wet navel.

With the ease of nearly a decade of practice, Shane grabbed ahold of Daryl’s hip and flipped him onto his stomach, then jerked him back onto his hands and knees. He buried his face between Daryl’s cheeks again, and the younger man groaned his name like a prayer.

“Ah, God, please!” Daryl begged. He shot a hand down to his aching cock and wrapped his fingers around the base. Still, Shane wouldn’t relent. “Don’t make me come, yet. Please, Shane. Don’t wanna do it yet. Ah, _fuck_.”

“No?” Shane asked, licking away at his leisure. “Why not?”

A shiver ripped down Daryl’s spine. This had been Shane’s favorite game, as of late, making him ask for it. In fucking detail.

“Wanna come when you fuck me,” Daryl said quietly, catching Shane’s eye over his shoulder. “Wanna feel you inside me, when I do it. Feel what I do to you.”

“What else?” Shane breathed. He slipped two fingers inside Daryl easily, his body still wet and wanting from the languid sex they’d had that morning.

“I- I- fuck...want all of you touchin’ me, when I come. Not just your mouth.”

“What parts of me?”

“Your hands,” Daryl said, rocking back against Shane. “You arms. Your fuckin’ tongue. Wanna feel you everywhere.”

“You will,” Shane promised. He climbed up onto the truck and lined himself up. “You’re gonna feel me for fuckin’ days.”

Shane pushed inside, smooth as silk, and Daryl’s moan echoed out into the road.

“Fuck, yes,” Shane hissed. He had a firm grip on Daryl’s hips. But instead of slamming their bodies together and chasing down their pleasure, Shane pulled Daryl slowly against him. They rocked into each other carefully, like puzzle pieces snapped into place from a great distance.

“Feel so good, Daryl,” Shane groaned. “Always so good for me, huh? My good boy.”

“God, Shane,” Daryl whimpered. The older man felt Daryl clench down around him and shudder uncontrollably. And the warbling, pleading tone of Daryl’s voice when he said Shane’s name was nearly enough to push the older man over the edge.

Abruptly, Shane sat back on his calves and pulled Daryl right along with him, sending himself as deep into the younger man as he could go.

“Ahh! Shane!” Daryl shouted at the new angle. One hand scrambled back for Shane’s shoulder, and the other for Shane’s hip. Daryl turned his head blindly and found Shane’s lips, melted into him while the man he’d loved since he was a teenager bucked harder and harder against him.

“Gonna make you come so hard,” Shane moaned, “And I’m the only one who’ll ever get to see it, right?”

“Just you,” Daryl gasped, “Don’t want no one else.”

Three of Shane’s fingers slipped into Daryl’s mouth, gathering wetness before they dropped to wrap firmly around Daryl’s twitching length.

“Oh god,” Daryl moaned. “Can’t hold it. Can’t-”

“You know what I wanna see,” Shane growled just behind Daryl’s ear, before sucking an angry mark where his neck met his shoulder. “Do it for me.”

With Shane pounding away at Daryl’s prostate like it was his fucking job, and stroking his length with the perfect grip, Daryl hardly had a choice in the matter. Daryl’s hips were trembling, bucking back and forth at the dual sensations without any sense of coordination.

Shane wrapped an arm around Daryl’s middle and pumped into him harder, faster, shoving deep until he could feel Daryl quivering from the inside out. Shane pressed two fingers down below Daryl’s balls, to the spot just above where they connected. He fisted Daryl faster, with building intensity until finally, neither of them could take it anymore.

When Daryl came, it was a lot more like blacking out. His body was so oversensitive and wrung out that he barely registered when Shane followed him a moment later. Somehow, he ended up chest to chest with Shane, straddling his lap with his head on Shane’s shoulder. There was come all over the truck-bed, and the whole garage smelled like sex, but _Christ_ it had been worth it.

Daryl felt two of Shane’s fingers slide back into him from behind.  Shane pressed hard at his spot, and didn’t let up until Daryl sobbed into his chest, cock twitching uselessly between them as the sensation became too much to bear.

Letting out a long, contented sigh, Daryl carefully fingered the scar at Shane’s left side. It was small, and thin. Told nothing, by the look of it, of all the pain it had caused.

That scar served as a reminder of a lot of unpleasant things. Being held back in Merle’s arms as the paramedics shocked Shane’s heart back into submission. The ride in the ambulance, when Shane’s hand had been limp in his own. That moment in the waiting room at the hospital when Mr. and Mrs. Grimes had first rounded the corner, and he’d broken down sobbing. Months of physical therapy. Years of nightmares.

But there were good memories to go along with the bad. The best of which was the moment the nurse had smiled at him, and said “He’s asking for you.” Daryl had sprinted to Shane’s room, and it had been a miracle he hadn’t tripped and cracked his head on the linoleum tile. But as soon as his and Shane’s eyes met, Shane burst into tears. Even now, he blamed it on the pain medications. But Daryl had seen the relief there. The love.

Over the years, Daryl had dozens of nightmares about that cabin. But Shane had more. And each time he woke up gasping for air, Daryl would soothe him through it. Trace the scar on his left side and remind him that they were both alive and together.

At first, Daryl had hesitated to touch the spot at all. He worried that the smallest move in the wrong direction could rip the rug out from underneath him. In his nightmares, Shane died on that porch. In his nightmares, he bled out in the ambulance, seized in his hospital bed. Even worse, Daryl sometimes dreamt that Shane had never existed at all. That he’d been a construct of Daryl’s own mind, meant to help him cope, or protect himself.

Daryl picked his head up off of Shane’s shoulder and looked him in the eye.

“I love you.”

Shane smiled at him, the gentle version he reserved only for Daryl, and held the younger man by the side of his face.

“Love you too.”

They kissed again, until Shane broke it with a chuckle.

“I thought being married meant your sex life went to shit,” Shane said.

Daryl snorted and scowled at him. “We ain’t married.”

“May as well be,” Shane said, eyes shining. “We live together. We’ve got a joint bank account. I do the dishes when you cook dinner.” He fingered the chain around Daryl’s neck. “You wear my jewelry,” Shane added, and then Daryl really did frown at him.

“Fuck you,” Daryl pouted, shoving at him softly.

“Next time, sweetheart.”

And Daryl couldn’t really argue with that.

Back outside, Daryl threw the stringbean the keys to his truck.

“You’re all set,” Daryl said with a smirk, “Merle here can process that receipt for ya.”

The kid looked paler than snow, and Daryl felt a little proud about that. The boy slinked off after Merle, and Rick hopped out of the cruiser.

“Lunch break over?” Rick teased. “We’ve got criminals to apprehend.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Shane brushed him off. He pulled Daryl in for another kiss.

“Don’t forget to get over to the house early, tonight,” Rick said to Daryl. “You know how Mom gets about Christmas Eve. And I’m not gonna be making excuses for your dumbass like last year.”

“I’ll be there,” Daryl said. There was no place he’d rather be.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

When Daryl walked into the Grimes house late that afternoon, Shane was sitting at the kitchen table swapping war stories with the now-retired Sheriff. Mrs. Grimes was busy in the kitchen preparing some sort of feast they’d never be worthy of consuming. Rick and Merle were in the midst of a heated argument in the living room. And while the two of them arguing wasn’t exactly a new attraction, the women plastered to either of their sides certainly was.

Daryl grinned when Michonne distracted Rick with a hand in his lap. They’d met while he was at the academy in Atlanta, and had been inseparable ever since. Rick didn’t bullshit her, and even when he did, Michonne didn’t take any of his bullshit.

On counterpoint, Andrew had her legs draped over Merle’s, and was currently refusing to return him his beer. Since she’d presided over Merle’s hearing when Daryl was still a teen, Andrea had gravitated towards Merle. In turn, Merle had gravitated right back towards her. They bickered almost as much as he and Merle did, but Daryl thought they were kind of perfect for each other.

Daryl padded quietly over to Shane’s chair and put his hands on his shoulders. Shane titled his head back to look at him and smiled.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

When he and Shane left at the end of the night, Daryl knew something was up. For one, Shane was refusing to look him directly in the eye, and kept wringing his hands on the steering wheel.

A decade ago, Daryl’s mind would have jumped to the worst.

“Well I know you ain’t cheating on me, so where’d you dump the body?” Daryl asked him.

Shane tensed, briefly, then broke down and smiled.

“That where we’re headin’ now?” Daryl asked, “‘Cuz we just passed the turn for our place.”

Shane sighed. “I wanted to give you your Christmas present early.”

“Is my Christmas present a dead body?” Daryl deadpanned.

“Stop.” Shane pulled out onto the highway. “Thing about this present is, it’d be easier to give it to you if we were married. But I think I know exactly what you’re gonna say to that-”

“We don’t need no fancy titles,” Daryl groaned, “You and me, we’re good. We’re together. We love each other. Why the hell do we need the government to tell us that’s real?”

Shane laughed. “I know. You’ve told me before. And I’m good with that, really. Just wanted to make sure we were still on the same page.” He reached across Daryl’s body, popped open the glove compartment, and extracted a small photograph.

“Here,” Shane said, handing it to him.

In the photograph was a girl. Seven or eight years old, by the looks of her. She had long, dark hair kept in two thick braids, and bright blue eyes. She was smiling brightly, and Daryl guessed this was her school photo.

“Whose this?” Daryl asked, placing the photo on the dash, “Missing person?”

“Nope,” Shane said. He kept his eyes carefully on the road in front of him. “That’s the kid we’re gonna adopt.”

Daryl choked on his spit. They’d talked about this, talked about it and fought about it and talked about it some more. Daryl wanted a family. He wanted to flip the Dixon curse on its head, and help a kid who needed helping. But Shane had always brought it up like it wouldn’t happen for years, if ever. And lately, he hadn’t been willing to discuss it at all. Daryl gaped at him.

“Filed the application a month ago. And considering we’re town heroes and all, I knew we’d get accepted,” Shane said. “Check the glove compartment. Her file’s in there.”

Daryl blinked at him, but did as Shane said.

Her name was Danielle, but she preferred Danny. She was born in a small town up in the mountains, just a couple hours’ drive from the place where Daryl and Shane had grown up. Her father was well-known in town for having a short temper. He’d been arrested for starting fights at the local bar at least a dozen times.

And four months ago, her father had gotten drunk and beaten Danny’s mother to death while she watched. Half delirious, her mother had pleaded for Danny to run while she still could. So, she took off into the woods. And a few hours later, her father wrapped his car around a telephone pole and died on impact.

It was seventeen days before they found her. Though found wasn’t really the right word when what she actually did was walk out of the woods and into the police station, sit down in reception, and calmly ask for some Rocky Road ice cream and to see the Chief, in that order. Danny had already been kicked out of three foster homes. In the file, her social worker said that she was unruly and hostile, a little bit feral.

Daryl thought she was perfect.

“Really?” Daryl asked.

Shane chanced a look in his direction, and saw that Daryl was smiling. Suddenly, Shane was smiling too.

“We could pick her up tomorrow morning,” Shane confirmed, “Have her home before dinner.”

“That where we’re headed now?”

“Mmhmm. Thought we could get a hotel for the night. Go see her first thing in the morning.”

Daryl nodded to himself. “And... they really said yes?”

“They did,” Shane said.

Daryl smiled as wide as his cheeks would allow. “We’re gonna be Dads.”

TWDTWDTWDTWD

The next morning, Daryl fidgeted the entire way to the foster home. He fidgeted while they waited for the social worker, and tapped his foot restlessly when she went to retrieve Danny from upstairs.

When she returned, there was a tiny thing with a messy mop of dark hair tucked warily into place behind her.

“Daryl, Shane,” the woman said, “This is Danielle.”

Danny glared at her. “It’s _Danny_ ,” she retorted emphatically. Daryl suspected it wasn’t the first time she’d had to correct her.

“Danielle,” the woman continued as if she hadn’t heard her, “These nice men want to adopt you!”

Danny frowned at her. “Boys can do that?”

“Daryl here is my boyfriend,” Shane explained gently, “We’re together.”

To Danny’s credit, she didn’t seem the least bit perturbed by the news.

“Oh,” Danny replied.

“Wouldn’t that be wonderful?” the social worker asked, “You’ll have two dads!”

That was the wrong thing to say. Daryl knew it; Shane knew it. Any moron with half a brain would know it.

Danny tensed up and backed towards the kitchen.

“You can’t make me go with them,” she whispered.

“Now, Danielle-” the woman tried.

“No! You can’t make me!” she shouted. And before the social worker could grab her, Danny had bolted through the back door.

“I’m so sorry,” the woman gushed, “I thought she’d react better than that. She’s just been through so much and-”

“Relax,” Shane cut her off, “Let us handle it. Part of the territory, right?” He looked to Daryl. “You wanna take this one?”

Daryl gnawed at his lower lip. “You sure? You’re a hell of a lot friendlier looking.”

Shane took his hand and gave him a soft look. “That’s not true. And even if it was, you’re the one she needs to talk to right now. If she’s going to trust anyone, it’ll be you.”

“Alright,” Daryl sighed. He nodded to himself and made for the back door. “Alright.”

As it turned out, Danny hadn’t gone far. The yard had a tall fence around it, and she was shoved into the farthest corner. Daryl walked over to her slowly. He pulled out a cigarette as he advanced and lit it, then stopped with a good distance still between them and slumped down against the wall.

“Hey,” he said, “You’re Danny, huh? I’m Daryl.”

Danny glared at the ground and ripped out grass in thick handfuls.

“I get why you ain’t so keen on leaving with us,” Daryl tried, “Hell, I’d be worried if you’d agreed right off the bat. You don’t know a thing about us.”

“There are lotsa other kids here,” Danny said quietly, “You should take one of them.”

“We want you.”

She finally looked up at him. To Daryl’s surprise, she seemed confused more than anything.

“But there are nice kids here. Bet they’d be real happy to have two Daddies.”

“And what about you?”

“I don’t want another Daddy,” she muttered.

“Now there’s somethin’ I can understand,” Daryl said, “Never liked my Daddy much neither. Wasn’t too keen on replacing him.”

She didn’t respond, but she wasn’t running off either, so Daryl took it as permission to continue.

“He was a mean son of a bitch,” Daryl said, “Used to get lit and beat the shit out of me. Did the same to my brother, before he left. And my Mom, before she died. He liked to tell me it was my fault. Wasn’t ‘til I met Shane that I realized how wrong he was.”

He took a long draw of his cigarette. “What did yours tell you?”

Danny rubbed her hands together, and rained grass and dirt down onto her lap.

“That I’m a good for nothin’ waste of space, just like my Mama.”

Daryl ducked his head to force eye contact, uncomfortable as it was for the both of them.

“You know that’s a bunch of bullshit, right?”

Danny squinted up at him. “Grown ups ain’t supposed to curse so much.”

“Well, it’ll be our secret then,” Daryl replied, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards. “Do me a favor and don’t tell Shane. And especially not that social worker of yours. She seems like she could really lay into a guy.”

“Okay,” Danny said, “What happened to your Daddy?”

“Went to jail for hurting me, and a whole slew of other things. Wasn't the most likeable guy on the outside, and he ended up getting into a fight he couldn’t win. He died, and I got him cremated. Left the ashes with my Mom. Dunno if they really would have wanted to be stuck together forever, but it ain’t like they got much of a choice anymore.”

Danny picked at a scab on her knee. “Were you sad?”

“It’s complicated,” Daryl said. He blotted his cigarette out in the dirt. “My Dad never did a good thing in his whole life. Screwed me up pretty good, too. But he was still my Dad, ya know? Felt guilty at first, for feelin’ sad even after all he’d done to me. Shane set me straight, though. Sometimes you’ve gotta let yourself feel whatever you need to.”

“My Daddy was so mean to me and Mama. I used to wish he would go away. Does that make me bad?”

“No, darlin’. That’s normal.”

“But then he did go away,” Danny whispered. “And he took Mama with him. And- and- it was my fault, wasn’t it? I shouldn’t have wished it.”

“No. Honey, that wasn’t your fault at all. It was his, okay? But what’s important is you survived. You made it, and now he can’t hurt you anymore.” Daryl inched slightly closer. “What’s important is now you can have any life you want. So lemme ask ya- is it just me and Shane you don’t like, or is it everyone?”

The corner of Danny’s mouth quirked up, briefly, and Daryl wanted to shout his victory up towards the sky.

“Y’all ain’t so bad,” Danny said.

“Thanks.”

The back door creaked as it opened again, and Daryl smiled when he spotted Shane trudging his way over, looking uncertain. When he reached them, Shane crouched down in front of Daryl, licked his thumb, then rubbed it at a particularly stubborn spec of dirt on the side of Daryl’s face.

The younger Dixon swatted at him and scowled.

“Quit your mother henning!”

To their right, Danny had her hand over mouth. Even so, she couldn’t hide her snickering.

“What, you think this is funny?” Daryl asked her, grinning. “Just wait ‘til he’s doin’ it to you.”

“You like it,” Shane said. “So Danny, you thought at all about what we talked about inside?”

“A little,” Danny replied, “If....if you send me back, will I be in trouble?”

Daryl and Shane shared a pained look.

“Sweetheart, that won’t happen,” Daryl said.

“But none of the other places wanted me. My Daddy didn’t neither. He said so.”

“We’re not like them,” Shane said gently. “If you decide you want to come stay with us, then that’s it. You’re with us. Family.”

“And for us that means somethin’,” Daryl added. “Means if things ain’t working, we don’t just give up. We work harder. And if they still ain’t right, then we work even harder than that. That’s what families do.”

Danny brought her thumb nail to her mouth and bit slowly at the edge of it. And right then, Shane knew there was no going back. This was their girl.

“You promise?” she asked them. Her voice was so small, and Shane just wanted to reach out and wrap her in his arms, even if he knew better than to try.

“We promise,” Shane said.

Danny nodded and pushed herself onto her feet. “Okay, let’s go.”

An hour later, Danny’s social worker watched from the window as the trio made their way back to Daryl’s truck. Halfway across the yard, Danny reached out tentatively and slid her hand into Daryl’s. When he looked down at her and smiled, she grabbed Shane’s hand too, more confidently this time.

On the ride home, Danny sat firmly wedged between Daryl and Shane’s broad forms. She dozed against Daryl’s shoulder, and he held himself still as concrete to keep from waking her.

They rolled up to the Grimes’ house just after noon.

“What do you think?” Daryl asked her warmly, “Ya wanna meet the rest of your family?”


End file.
